Victoria's Gate
by dingdang564564
Summary: 1879, the British Empire has just defeated the Zulu Kingdom in the Anglo-Zulu War. Making ready to transport men back to their posts, a British ship discovers a massive gate off the coast of the Cape Colony. Another world is discovered, ripe for imperialistic ambitions and exploitation.
1. Chapter 1

Captain Wiley Harrington looked over the deck of his corvette, passing the time as they continued their journey overseas. It was another excellent day on the seas; the sun shined brightly across the sky, reflecting across the ocean with it's brilliant glare, and not a cloud was in sight. Captain Harrington sighed and began to pace across the deck; it was a shame the weather wasn't this nice everywhere his ship sailed.

Harrington was captain of the _HMS Lerwick_, apart of the Royal Navy, specifically of the Cape of Good Hope and West Africa Squadron. The name was quite a mouthful in his opinion. The _HMS Lerwick_ was a Comus-class corvette, one of the Royal Navy's newest ships; Harrington had been lucky to receive command of it considering his lack of experience compared to other officers.

Currently, they were sailing to the Cape Colony along with two other ships: _HMS Castor_, and _HMS Vernon, _both merchant ships. Despite being merchant ships, they were well armed, and equally prepared for battle. All together they formed an imposing force, not that there was any threat in the first place; the Royal Navy hadn't faced any serious opposition since Napoleon was defeated.

Their task was to pick up men from the Cape Colony and sail then them to India. Recently the war against the Zulu had ended and now several regiments, who'd been shipped to Africa at the start of the war, needed to be transported back to their posts.

Harrington flicked open his compass to make certain they were heading in the right direction. Sailing to the Cape Colony wasn't supposed to take longer than a few days, yet they'd been at sea for three and land still hadn't been sighted.

"Damned winds, must have blown us off course…" he muttered to himself as he flicked the compass closed. They were headed in the right direction, that was for certain.

"I see something!" one of Harrington's men, the lookout in the crows nest, suddenly shouted out. "Some sort of structure off the port bow, Captain!"

Harrington looked up at the lookout. "Do you see sails?!" If there were ships it meant they were most likely getting closer to their destination.

"No, Captain!" he shouted in response. "I-I can't describe it, Captain! You need to look for yourself, sir!"

Drawing out his spyglass, Harrington looked towards the port side. At first, he couldn't see anything in the open ocean, but soon enough some sort of structure came into view.

Standing at least three times a tall and as the _Lerwick's _mast, Harrington looked in awe at the massive stone building emerging from the water. Built in a way that looked to be some sort of imitation of ancient Greek and Roman architecture, the structure opened into an ominous black void.

Having sailed close enough to spot it with the naked eye, Harrington's crew started to gape at the structure. None of them had ever seen anything like it.

"What do you reckon it is, Captain?" Harrington's first mate and close friend, Arnold Watson, asked while staring at the structure.

Shaking his head, Harrington muttered out his response, "I don't know… maybe some sort of port?"

"I've never heard of any port like that, Captain."

"Perhaps we've sailed to Greece and we're looking at the Parthenon."

"I don't thing so, Captain; the Parthenon doesn't lie in the sea," Watson whispered out. The man suddenly looked away from the structure and glanced at Harrington. "It looks like a doorway almost."

Harrington returned his gaze. "A doorway to where?"

"Atlantis perhaps?" the first mate suggested.

"Mhmm…" Harrington brought his hand to his chin, contemplating his next action. They had orders to report to the Cape Colony, but this was far more intriguing. Looking back, he saw the crews of _Castor _and _Vernon_ equally perplexed as his own.

"Sails ahoy! Sail off the starboard bow!" the lookout's shout brought Harrington out of his thoughts.

Having been so focused on the structure, Harrington and his crew had neglected to spot an entire fleet of ships sailing off the starboard side. The other ships didn't have the same problem and were sailing straight at _Lerwick _and the two merchant ships trailing behind her.

Bringing up his spyglass once more, he took a closer look at the ships. From what he could see, the ships looked rather puny when compared to _HMS Lerwick. _They were skinny and fragile looking, with a combination of oars and sails for propulsion; it was almost as if they'd been transported from ancient counted at least twenty of the strange ships.

"Chinese junks, Captain?"

Harrington brought the spyglass from his eye and shook his head. "I don't believe so, Watson, the sails are all wrong for that."

Nodding his head slowly, Watson gazed out at the foreign ships. "I suppose we should greet them, shouldn't we, Captain?"

"Aye," Harrington agreed. He immediately yelled out across the deck, "Set a course for those ships, make sure we're flying British colors, and prep the guns with double common shells incase they try to pull anything on us!"

Several of his crew shouted back, "Aye, Captain!" And then immediately set to work changing the _Lerwick's _course towards the strange ships.

The _Castor_ and _Vernon _both started to follow their course, and soon the two forces were sailing directly at each other. Drawing his revolver, Harrington checked to make sure it was properly loaded; it was a common pirate tactic to wait until the last moment to reveal their intentions, and he didn't want to be unprepared in the case of a boarding action.

Soon after they'd changed course, the foreign ships drew close enough for Harrington to see their crew. They clearly weren't Chinese, nor were they African, in fact they looked to be of European decent, maybe Italian or Spanish. Whoever they were, they still hadn't flown any colors to show their allegiance.

As the two forces came close to each other, Harrington ordered for the sails to be drawn in, so that they wouldn't end up colliding with the other ships. Soon enough, one of their larger ships, possibly the flagship, sailed up alongside the _Lerwick._

Deciding to take the initiative, Harrington shouted out to the other ship, "Ahoy! I'm Captain Wiley Harrington of the Royal Navy, and this is my ship the _HMS Lerwick_! What nation do you hail from?"

In response to his call, a man dressed in strange armor called out back to him in what sounded to be some odd bastardization of Latin. Harrington, having studied Latin when he was a boy, roughly translated what the man had said to be a call for surrender.

It was either that or he'd just been asked to give up his trousers; Harrington's Latin wasn't very good and the man spoke in an incredibly odd accent.

Not willing to take any chances, he called out to his crew, "Man the guns! Prepare to fire the starboard side on my command!" His men immediately ran to their stations, ready for battle. "Signal at the merchant ships to prepare for battle!"

Having seen Harrington's men prepare for battle, or just simply getting impatient of waiting for their surrender, the enemy captain called out orders to his own crew. Harrington watched amused as several ranks of men with bows and arrows assembled on the enemy ship.

"It seems they wish to fight us, Captain," Watson mused.

"Aye, that they do." Harrington turned to his crew and uttered out a single command, "Fire!"

An eruption of smoke and deafening noise followed the command as all six of the _Lerwick's _starboardguns fired at once. The shells smashed into the side of their target and immediately obliterated it's hull.

Harrington had ordered double common shells to be loaded in the guns, shells that sacrificed accuracy in exchange for extra powder to add to their explosive potential. The result was the enemy ship's entire side being blown into splinters of wood.

He watched the ship sink into the water for a brief moment before returning his attention to his men. "Reload starboard side! Make ready to fire the forward guns!"

After watching their flag ship be blown to pieces, the remaining ships started to converge on the _Lerwick_. Apparently having no guns of their own, they were probably going to attempt and board in order to seize the _Lerwick. _Harrington didn't intend on letting that happen.

"Fire!"

The forward guns spewed forth another cloud of smoke and impacted one of the advancing ships dead on. Shortly after, the ship was dead in the water as its bow was completely destroyed.

"Reload forward guns!" Harrington shouted to his men.

It seemed that the adversaries they faced were either iron-willed or simply insane, as they continued to advance, despite having seen two of their ships get disabled in quick succession.

One of the smaller ships came up upon their port side, with its crew preparing grapples. Harrington could make out several of the men carrying spears and shields, weapons that would overpower his crew's simple cutlasses in the event of a boarding action. Of course, they'd have to actually board first.

"Fire!"

The command came once more, and once more the _Lerwick's _guns were let loose on the enemy. Harrington noted that, unlike its larger contemporaries, the ship was completely blown apart by the broadside volley with nothing but scattered planks left in the aftermath.

Abruptly, a barrage of cannon fire flew from behind the _Lerwick. _Harrington looked back to see the two merchant ships had begun to open fire with their own arsenal of guns. Two more of the foreign ships began to sink.

Another barrage from the _Lerwick's _guns seemed to be enough to convince their adversaries to retreat. Harrington smiled at the sight.

"They're running!" Watson yelled out in celebration. "They've set course for the stone structure, Captain!"

"Chase after them! Sink any ship that doesn't surrender!" If they allowed the enemy to escape, they could possibly regroup for another attack. This time they had the surprise of their guns, but he doubted they would get as lucky the next time around.

"Aye, Captain!" was the resounding cry from his crew. The _Lerwick _lurched forward as its sails were unraveled and gave chase to the fleeing ships.

* * *

Through a mixture of favorable winds and the use of the _Lerwick's_ steam engine, none of the enemy ships had been allowed to escape. Unfortunately, all but one of the ships had refused to surrender and thus were sunk by barrages of cannon fire. The one that had surrendered was now being transported to their original destination of the Cape Colony.

That had been his first battle and it was a resounding success. While a good deal of the credit certainly had to be given to their vastly superior technology, Harrington liked to think that his quick thinking had saved them from a boarding action which could have costed them dearly, though some might disagree.

Regardless of what gave them the victory, all that mattered was that they had been victorious. Now with a great deal of foreign prisoners, Harrington would be seen as a hero and get knighted for his services, possibly by Queen Victoria herself; at least, that's what he told himself.

Harrington's Latin wasn't good enough to communicate effectively with the men they'd captured, but hopefully there would be someone at the colony who'd know proper Latin, at very least some of the priests would know.

Within a few hours of the battle they'd spotted land and soon they were on their way to Cape Town's port where they restock on supplies, offload prisoners, and report their findings. If all went well, Harrington hoped to join in on an expedition through the structure they'd found, the age of exploration was dying down, and this seemed to be an entirely new frontier. With any luck, his name would be marked down with the likes of Columbus, da Gama, and Magellan.

* * *

Zululand was a cavalryman's dream; the great wide open plains had few obstacles to trip up horses, and there were little signs of civilization. At the moment though, the open plains were becoming a source of annoyance for Captain Jack Campbell.

One of the men in his troop had deserted in the night, and now Jack had to find him before something went wrong; the Zulu had only recently been defeated, and he didn't want one of his men to be responsible for starting another war. While beautiful, the open land allowed the deserter to flee rather far.

Riding out with one of his two lieutenants, Bryant Roan, and his sergeant-major, Lawrence Bain, they searched for the missing cavalryman.

Jack was confused as to why the man had deserted in the first place. The trooper in question, Dee Galway, had never been any sort of trouble before, to desert was highly uncharacteristic of him. Of course, it wasn't just troublemakers that deserted, but there weren't any logical explanations for a desertion at this time.

They'd just recently beaten the Zulus, they were staying at a decent encampment, and soon they'd be heading back to India; none of the poor conditions that usually enticed men to desert were present. Jack shook his head and continued riding, it was best not to overthink things.

"It'll be a shame to leave this place," Bryant broke the silence that had settled over them.

Jack nodded in agreement. "Aye, it's almost hard to go back to India after this."

"I think I'd enjoy settling down here," the second lieutenant mused. "If it weren't for the Zulus and Boers of course."

"What about you, Bain?" Jack inquired. "You like this place as much as we do?"

"Too dry for my taste, sir." The sergeant-major maintained a stern face, as always. Jack supposed that type of thing was necessary for someone incharge of discipline.

Adjusting his pith helmet, Jack urged his horse to continue trotting forward. "Maybe that's why Galway deserted, he wants to settle down here."

Bryant snorted. "In Zululand? He'd find a spear in his back before he had time to blink."

Jack rolled his eyes at the statement. "Despite what you think, Bryant, the Zulus aren't just savages living like animals."

"Of course you'd think that. Fancy marrying a Zulu wife one day, do you?" Bryant retorted.

Jack's eyes narrowed. Friend or not, there was a line when it came to how you spoke to your superiors, and Bryant had crossed it. "Know your place, Second Lieutenant."

Bryant realized his mistake and quickly apologized, "Sorry, sir. I think the heat's getting to me, sir."

"Do it again and you'll lose your rank," Jack threatened.

"Yes, sir."

Urging his horse to go faster, Jack sighed. Bryant was a good officer and an excellent soldier, but at times he was a bit too… patriotic. Not that patriotism was a bad thing, Jack considered himself a patriot, but sometimes Bryant's ideals interfered with his discipline.

They continued on in silence through Zululand. The tracks they were following were faint, but evident enough that they could keep following them, albeit slowly. Jack yawned as they continued onwards.

After a little while of seeing nothing but hills and grass, Jack suddenly spotted the bright red uniform of an infantry patrol. Their red uniforms stood in great contrast to Jack's blue uniform. Riding forward, he galloped up to them, hoping to glean some information about Galway.

"Captain Jack Campbell, 17th Regiment of Lancers," he introduced himself to the man leading the patrol.

The man saluted. "Sergeant Early McGuire, 58th Regiment of Foot, sir."

Jack got straight to the point, "We're looking for one of our men, Sergeant McGuire. You wouldn't happen to have seen him, would you?"

"Blue uniform, like yours, sir?"

Jack nodded.

"Aye, we've seen him; he came riding past us a little while back, looked to be in a hurry," Sergeant McGuire said as he pointed towards a hill.

"Thank you for the information, Sergeant; we've got to get going though."

"Any time, sir."

Jack nodded and urged his horse forward. His two companions followed his and he rode off in the direction McGuire had pointed to. The infantry patrol faded into the distance as they continued on.

Thanks to their new directions, they were able to move at a much faster rate than they'd previously gone. Shortly after, Jack spotted the distinctive blue uniform of the 17th Lancers in the distance.

Galway was sitting on a rock with his horse next to him, neither moving; even as he saw Jack and his companions riding up, the deserter didn't move a muscle.

Trotting up to the man, Jack greeted him, "Trooper, you've given us quite the chase."

Galway looked down at his boots. "Sorry, sir. I didn't intend for that."

"The punishment for desertion is execution; I assume you're well aware of that?"

"Aye, sir."

Jack furrowed his brow. "Then why did you do it? And of all places to run, why out here?"

Galway sighed. "I didn't mean to desert, sir, truly I didn't."

"Explain yourself."

"A little while back, I lost my wife's locket while riding past around here. I thought it was gone forever." He rubbed his face before continuing, "Just yesterday, one of the locals claimed a man in a nearby village found it and was willing to sell it to me. He knew my name and everything, so I figured it must have been true."

"Did he have it?"

Galway held up a small silver locket in one hand. He sighed then murmured out, "I was going to get leave, but with us leaving for India so soon… it just wasn't possible."

Jack took a deep breath as he thought about what to do. While clearly Galway had noble intentions at heart, he was still a deserter, and letting him go would be disastrous for discipline in his men. Sergeant-Major Bain most likely would support an execution as punishment, so he couldn't just pass off the task to him.

"Trooper, you had a decent reason for leaving, but as Captain I cannot allow men to desert at will. As such, when we return to camp, you'll receive a lashing for your desertion. Understood?"

Galway nodded. "Aye, sir."

"Good. Mount your horse, our transport should be arriving any day now."

* * *

Alright so with Little Green Men I'll be honest I got some writer's block. This idea came to me a while ago and unlike a lot of my other ideas, this one stuck around. I think I'll be doing chapters of this for a little while before going back to Little Green Men to see if my writer's block has cleared. This is going to follow a much different path than the regular Gate story and from Little Green Men.

Some disclaimers: I'm not British and I don't claim to be British, so if I make any mistakes, please correct me. I've done a lot of research, but obviously I can't get everything right, so if something's not accurate then please inform me and I'll see if I can change it. This is going to be inspired by a couple things, mainly the _Flashman Papers, _which is an excellent book series for anyone interested in the Victorian era, and the movie Zulu which is a fantastic film about the Anglo-Zulu War, specifically the battle of Rorke's Drift.

Please review, share your thoughts, tell me if this is a terrible idea and I should stop.


	2. Chapter 2

For the second time, Captain Harrington watched the massive stone structure, dubbed the "gate," draw ever closer to his ship.

Having arrived at Cape Town, Harrington described what he had seen to the governor. Immediately, a telegraph was sent to London where they soon received orders from the queen herself. A force of three warships was to be sent through the gate in order to explore the region. Harrington had received the honor of leading this force.

According to their prisoners there was an empire on the other side of the gate. When dealing with this empire, they were to follow the examples of China and Japan, making peace and drawing up favorable trade agreements, through force. Once that had occurred, a larger force of ships would secure whatever port they'd landed at and ensure the treaty they'd drawn up was followed.

Harrington was giddy with excitement; he'd been born too late to participate in the days of exploration, this was his chance to make a name for himself. With nothing but primitives in their path, Harrington couldn't imagine them having any difficulties.

The wreckage of foreign ships drifted past them as they approached the gate. Black void was all they could see through the gate, but Harrington knew there had to be something on the other side. The prisoner's they'd captured were evidence of that.

One deck boards creaked as Watson came up from behind him. "Some of the men believe we're sailing to hell, Captain."

Looking through the gate, Harrington supposed that, if there was a hell, that's what it would look like. "What do you believe, Watson?"

"I'm not a superstitious man, Captain, but I don't suppose we can rule it out considering what's in front of us."

Harrington grinned. "No, Watson, I don't suppose we can."

"At least it'll be easier when we die, we'll already be in hell."

"Always looking on the brightside, I see."

"Aye, Captain. I do my best."

Looking around, Harrington noted that the crew were waiting for his orders to set sail. It didn't feel right to just give the order though. "Events like these need some sort of send off, don't they?"

"A speech would be fitting, Captain," Watson replied.

Taking a deep breath, Harrington called out to the crew, "Today marks a new age in our nation's history! For the first time in centuries, we have truly undiscovered land to explore! New frontiers to settle! An entire world to claim for Britain!" Harrington drew his cutlass into the air. "And we are at its forefront!"

"Aye, Captain!" came the resounding cry of his crew.

"Is any man here afraid of some savages in row boats?!"

"Nay, Captain!"

Harrington pointed his cutlass towards the gate. "Set course for the new world! Britannia rules the waves!"

* * *

The _HMS Lerwick_ sailed smoothly through a dark tunnel. Behind her, two companions ships followed her lead through the gate.

Harrington fiddled with his belt as the seemingly never ending darkness consumed their surroundings. They'd brought out lanterns, but the cold dark was impenetrable. Harrington couldn't be certain if they were even sailing the same direction they'd come in.

Suddenly, he spotted a light at the end of the tunnel. It was faint, but in the pitch darkness it shined through like the sun.

"Take us towards that light!" he commanded the helmsman.

"Aye, Captain."

They sped towards the light, using the ship's steam engine to supplement the lack of wind in the tunnel. Soon enough the pitch dark broke away, revealing a brilliant night sky.

"Those aren't our skies…" Watson muttered from beside him.

"Hmm?"

"The stars, they're different from ours. I can't spot any of our constellations, Captain."

"Ah…" Harrington had never taken any interest in astronomy, so he could only assume Watson's observations were correct.

The ship's lookout suddenly cried out, "Land on the horizon, Captain!"

Harrington shifted his gaze to where the lookout was point; sure enough there was land in the distance. One section of land seemed to have multiple lights coming from it, a port perhaps.

With nothing else in sight, Harrington gave his orders, "Sail us to those lights! Make sure the guns are loaded, just in case someone tries to have a go at us!"

Unravelling the sails fully, their ship lurched forward with the wind. The _Lerwick's_ steam engine was stopped in order to preserve their coal reserves; it wasn't necessary to keep it running when there were good strong winds. As they took off, the two other ships accompanying them followed their course.

Coming closer, Harrington got a better look at their destination with his spyglass. They were definitely sailing towards a port, a large one at that, and several of the strange ships they'd fought earlier were docked.

The men they'd captured and brought back to Cape Town had said all sorts of things about some sort of empire and their gods. They couldn't extract too much information before they set sail, since Queen Victoria had ordered them to set sail immediately, but what he did know is that the men who'd attacked them hailed from a region called Falmart. Specifically, they belonged to the Saderan Empire.

If Harrington had to guess, the port he was observing now was probably a major Saderan harbor. That meant good news, a major port so close to the gate would prove to be a strategic advantage for future excursions. Harrington could already imagine it as the new Hong Kong.

By the time they got near the port, the sun was just peaking over the horizon. The docks were mostly abandoned, but Harrington could see a few lookouts watching his ship sail towards them. They'd probably already sent someone to inform whoever was in charge here of the _Lerwick's_ arrival.

"Weigh anchor, we'll come ashore on skiffs!" While the docks were probably large enough to allow the _Lerwick_ to dock, he didn't wish to risk having his ship boarded in case things went wrong.

Harrington's ship was accompanied by a platoon of Royal Marines, courtesy of the Cape Colony's governor. They would make up the main force of the landing party, with Harrington at it's lead. He'd also made sure that they'd picked up a man who knew decent Latin, in order to translate for them.

The landing party rowed to the dock and immediately disembarked from their skiffs. Waiting for them was a force of around the same size, maybe slighter larger, armed with spears and shields; at their lead was an older man, dressed in what looked to be some sort of Roman style robe.

The leader shouted something at him, which Harrington's translator interpreted to mean, "Who are you people? Where are you from?"

"I am Captain Wiley Harrington of the Royal Navy, these are my men. We hail from Britain, beyond the gate." Harrington glanced to his side, making sure that his translator got the message across.

Immediately, the Saderans adopted a more hostile stance. The men lowered their spears and locked their shields together in a formation. They were preparing for battle.

More shouting came from the Saderan leader. "You can't be here and have to leave immediately," Harrington's translator interpreted.

Harrington rolled his eyes; it seemed the Saderans had an attitude similar to the Chinese when it came to foreigners. "Tell the man that we're not leaving until we've gathered what we need from here."

An angry yell was all the response Harrington received.

Their leader suddenly shouted out several rapid commands in his bastardized Latin and the Saderan soldiers began to slowly but steadily move forward. They probably meant to force Harrington's men to fall back to their skiffs through intimidation.

"Form ranks!" the lieutenant in charge of Harrington's marines ordered. Within a few seconds, the Royal Marines expertly shuffled into a line of men, two ranks deep.

Harrington turned to his translator, "Order the Saderans to stand down!"

The man nodded and shouted at the Saderan leader. A brief exchange between the two followed, before he turned back to Harrington shaking his head. "They refuse, sir."

Harrington noted that the Saderan soldiers were getting too close for comfort. Turning towards the marine lieutenant, Harrington gave a single nod.

"Volley fire present!"

The marines brought their rifles to bear against the Saderans.

"Aim!"

Harrington could see the Saderan soldiers bring their shields into a tight formation. He had no doubt it would be incredibly effective at stopping arrow fire. Fortunately, they weren't using arrows.

"Fire!"

A cacophony of rifle shots sounded out. Immediately more than half of the Saderans dropped to the ground, clutching bullet wounds that had pierced through their armor and shields.

"Reload!"

The remaining Saderans were either torn between charging and fleeing, or simply too shocked to react in any meaningful way.

"Fire!"

Only a few men survived the second volley as British rifles tore through the remains of their formation. Those who remained immediately turned to flee, the Saderan leader included.

Harrington couldn't help but smile as the enemy fled. Once more, British supremacy had been proven over the Saderans, no doubt they'd be forced to negotiate now that they'd seen British firepower firsthand.

Until then however, they needed to get back to their ship; Harrington had no doubt that the Saderans would send more men to deal with them, and a platoon of marines wasn't enough to hold off an army.

"Back onto the skiffs! We've done what needed to be done."

* * *

Galway was mostly silent on the journey out of Zululand; if Jack had to guess, the man was truly sorry about his actions. Desertion was a serious offense in the army; if they were at war, Galway would have been executed without second thought. Alas, the war was over, and peacetime punishments allowed for more mercy to shown.

Considering the severity of Galway's crime, a lashing was almost nothing. Jack initially thought about having him imprisoned, but they were shipping back to India soon, meaning they wouldn't be able to administer the punishment for at least a month; more than enough time for the cause of said punishment to have been forgotten by Jack's men.

That was the true purpose of these punishments anyway. While they may serve to discourage Galway from acting out again, they were far better at deterring other men in his troop from misbehaving. It was a double edged sword though; if a man didn't receive an adequate punishment for their crime, it might encourage others to do the same.

Jack rubbed his forehead. Commanding men wasn't easy, but he was an officer and that was his duty. Jack always did his duty.

In great contrast to Galway, Bryant was anything but silent during the journey. The man always had something on his mind, an attribute that came in handy on long journeys.

"What do you think they'll have us doing once we get back to India? Shoveling horse dung or fighting mutinies?"

Jack looked back at him. "Maybe India's just a pit stop and the real destination's elsewhere."

"Where would they send us then?" Bryant asked.

"Afghanistan perhaps?" Jack suggested.

Bryant groaned. "I hope it's not Afghanistan, damned tribesmen never give up."

"You've got to admire their bravery; standing up to our men for so long isn't easy."

Bryant shook his head. "Stubbornness isn't bravery, and it certainly doesn't make a good soldier."

Jack simply nodded, not willing to argue to point.

"Maybe we're going to America; I've always wanted to go there one day," Bryant suggested.

"To do what? The Yanks haven't done anything since their civil war, and Canada doesn't have any problems to deal with."

Bryant nodded. "Ah, you're right. Maybe China then?"

Jack shrugged in response. "Who knows for certain? We could be going to Timbuktu for all I'm aware."

"Aye, but wherever it is, I hope we don't end up dead."

Jack agreed, "Ad multos annos."

Bryant raised an eyebrow. "Big fan of Latin are you?"

"No, certainly not," Jack replied with a laugh. "My father drilled it into my head for some God forsaken reason, never found out why."

"Maybe he wanted you to become a Catholic Priest," Bryant joked.

Jack chuckled. "Nothing would terrify me more."

The rest of the journey out of Zululand passed quickly, with the two officers joking back and forth, while Galway and Sergeant-Major Bain rode behind them in silence. They reached their encampment just before sundown.

Upon entering the camp, Jack sent Bain to administer the punishment on Galway, while he went to report to his superior; Jack didn't know where Bryant wandered off to.

Jack's direct superior, a major by the name of Bishop Penn, was in Jack's opinion quite likable. He was a good commander and effectively led Jack's squadron with little problems, not to mention being an excellent drinking companion.

He found the major speaking with their regimental colonel, Lord Alexander Burton. In contrast to Major Penn, Jack didn't know Lord Burton very well. From his appearance, the colonel was of intimidating stature, fit for someone who commanded both fear and respect. He was certainly someone Jack did not want to mess with.

"Major Penn," he said while saluting. "Reporting back from my patrol, sir."

The major turned from his conversation with Lord Burton and looked towards Jack. Immediately he nodded. "Captain Campbell, I assume everything went well?"

"Yes, sir."

Major Penn nodded. "Well, don't get too settled in; we're scheduled to move out tomorrow morning."

"Back to India, sir?"

"Actually, no," Lord Burton answered before the major could reply. "We've got new orders, we'll be sailing to a place called Falmart; a report was sent out with all the details."

Major Penn nodded in confirmation. "I informed the other captains while you were away. Make sure your men are ready to move out by sunrise."

"Yes, sir," Jack said with a nod.

"Read up on the report, it should be in your tent. Anything else?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Alright then, dismissed."

Jack saluted then did a sharp turn and began to march towards his tent. Once Lord Burton was out of sight, he relaxed his posture and started walking instead.

"Falmart…" he muttered to himself. Jack hadn't ever heard of the place; if he had to guess it was probably somewhere in the Americas, maybe even Europe. The name certainly didn't sound like it was African or Asian.

Wherever Falmart was located, it meant Queen Victoria was once more expanding the Empire's reach; the sun truly never set on the British Empire. It also meant that Jack and his men would get to see more of the world, one of his favorite parts of being in the army. Grinning to himself, Jack stepped into his tent.

As an officer, he was entitled to slightly larger quarters than the common soldier would receive. His tent was just large enough to house a bedroll, some of his personal effects, and a small table which he used as a desk. Sitting on top of said desk was the report he was supposed to read about Falmart.

Snatching up the paper, Jack sat himself down and looked it over. He skipped over most of the introduction, it didn't include much necessary information anyway.

At first, Jack almost thought he'd mistakenly been given the beginning of one of the latest fictional novels from London. Upon closer examination however, it became clear the report was indeed genuine.

Sitting just off the coast, a stone gate standing a hundred feet tall that lead to another world, not just any world, a world with men speaking Latin and wearing Roman garb. Jack couldn't help to laugh to himself, it all sounded like some drunk soldier's fantasy. Apparently the Royal Navy had already been dispatched into this new world and that the 17th Lancers would be apart of the second wave, along with a couple other regiments.

Tossing the letter away, Jack unbuckled his belt and sat down at his desk. He'd expected to go somewhere foreign, but this was an entirely different thing all together. Jack needed to get some sleep before he truly thought through the ramifications of where they were going; Britain's expansion was being taken to an all new height.

* * *

"Skiff approaching, Captain! Port side!"

Harrington stepped to the side of his ship and looked towards the small boat coming towards them. From what he could see, there were only around five people onboard, and they all seemed to be unarmed. Furthermore, they were waving a white flag in the air.

The captain smiled; it was a diplomatic vessel. All as expected.

"Allow the skiff to come aboard, and get a contingent of marines on deck!" Harrington planned to make extra sure that the Saderan diplomats saw decent show of force. "Load the guns with blank shots! I want those primitives to be quaking in their boots!"

"Aye, Captain!"

Harrington leaned over the side of his ship and carefully began to load rounds into his revolver. He'd once read a book about Commodore Matthew Perry, the American who opened up Japan to trade. Harrington didn't imagine that this encounter wouldn't be too different from Perry's visits to Japan.

The Saderans wouldn't even be able to utter one word of resistance if all went to plan.

* * *

Another chapter, hurrah! RULE BRITANNIA!

hellisonfire345: Glad you like it so far, the Scramble for Sadera is an idea I'm currently toying with, we'll see if it makes the final cut.

Feerzo 14: I was kinda disappointed a while back when I first started reading stories here that no one had done 19th century, so here I am, fulfilling my own wishes.

haseyem: Naval battles are a certainty, and gunboat diplomacy is kinda what I've decided to base Harrington's view on.

UN Peacekeeper: BRITANNIA RULES THE WAVES!

Sleipnir: Your wish is granted. Also I considered doing 1913, but then I realized that something like that would 100% cause WW1 to start and I didn't want to try and sort through that mess. As for other countries, if Britain get's it's way, no other nations would be allowed into Falmart, of course things don't always go the way people want them to.

Nicolas: Glad you like it, more to come soon.

Stuka87: Oh, I've got a plan for that. It's definitely not going to go anyway similar to how it went in the anime.

The Blue Dragoner: BRITONS NEVER SHALL BE SLAVES!

V1kingz-98: This, among other things, was what I listened to while writing this chapter.

Perseus12: RULE BRITANNIA! Concerning Tyuule, that's an interesting idea I hadn't considered, I'll consider it.

last admiral: Among other things, yes.

real spider: I've got one coming up, I'm just trying to avoid having too many POVs at once. I think I made that mistake with Little Green Men.


	3. Chapter 3

Of the five Saderans that rowed towards the _Lerwick_ in their skiff, only one actually decided to come aboard. The man introduced himself as Lord Lyco Drusillus, advisor to the governor of Proptor, Commander of the Emperor's Fleets and Sealord of the Empire; quite the impressive title in Harrington's opinion. Of course, he didn't really know what any of those titles meant or what their importance was; the Saderans might just have liked giving out titles to people.

They brought Lord Lyco to the Captain's quarters, the only place on the ship suitable for a diplomatic meeting, and started their negotiations. Lyco sat on one end of a desk while Harrington, Watson, and their translator on the other end. There was a certain tension in the room as they began their talks, they were after all technically enemies.

"Let's start with the basics, shall we? We are representatives of Her Majesty Victoria, by the Grace of God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland Queen, Defender of the Faith, Empress of India." Harrington decided that if Lyco was going to be listing off titles, they might as well do the same.

The translator spoke rapidly, listing off all the Queen's titles, and trying to put them into Latin without losing the meaning behind them. Lord Lyco sat with a stern face.

Harrington waited until his translator had finished. "Do you understand?"

Lord Lyco's faced remained ever unchanging. "Is that all?"

The captain cocked his head in confusion. "I beg your pardon?"

"Is that all that your pathetic queen rules over?" the lord scoffed.

Harrington looked between Watson and his translator, a mix of confusion and anger written on his face. The utter gall of the man to disrespect Her Majesty, especially while aboard one of Her Majesty's ships. If they were in England, Lord Lyco would have been strung up by a mob for saying such things. Never in his life had Harrington heard such disrespect for the Queen.

Fortunately, Watson was more level headed than he was. "This is a map of all that Her Majesty rules over," he said, clearing the desk to lay down a depiction of the British Empire. "As you can see, it is quite considerable."

Lord Lyco's expression never changed, but he had to have been impressed; after all, Britain was the greatest empire to ever grace God's Earth. Surely some part of him was at least a little bit awed by its magnitude. Nevertheless, Lord Lyco remained stone faced.

There was a brief silence as Lord Lyco pulled out his own map to match them. Harrington got his first glance at a map of Falmart and the Saderan Empire, he grumbled slightly when he noticed it was comparable in size to the British Empire. Still, Sadera ruled only a single continent while Britain spanned over several, a clear sign of British superiority.

"I represent Emperor Molt Sol Augustus, Autocrat of Sadera, Consul of the Senate, the Pious and Blessed, First Citizen, Chosen of the Gods, and Ruler of the Empire." Lord Lyco's face grew a smug grin. "Do you understand?"

Harrington silently seethed with rage, but he managed to put on a facade of being calm and collected, as all officers were meant to do. "Regardless, let's get to the point."

Lord Lyco's grin faded into a stern face. "Very well then, let's begin."

"Your empire attacked ships belonging to the Royal Navy, a clear act of war, we demand answers for this needless aggression."

The lord shook his head slowly. "Our Empire did not mean to attack your ships, it was all purely an accident. The fleet we sent through the gate confused your ships with those of an enemy fleet, it was all a terrible accident." Lord Lyco maintained an air of confidence about him, but Harrington could see right through it. The Saderans were afraid, they wouldn't be claiming it was an accident otherwise.

Shaking his head, a faint smile grew on Harrington's face. "I find it unlikely that you'd know what your fleet confused us to be, especially considering none of them made it back through the gate."

Lord Lyco's expression suddenly became flustered as Harrington's words were translated to him. He quickly came up with a retort, "How can you be sure all of our fleet was captured? Is it not possible for a ship to slip away in the chaos?"

Harrington shook his head. "You see, I know for certain that none of your fleet managed to escape, because I gave the order to hunt them down myself. I can assure you, my lord, none of your ships made it back through the gate."

Lord Lyco simply glared at Harrington with his lips pressed firmly together.

Harrington sighed. "I will ask this once, do you wish to engage in a conflict with Britain?"

Lord Lyco's face was turning red. For a brief moment, Harrington almost expected the Saderan to lunge at him, fortunately he came to his senses.

"No."

"Excellent, then I expect you'll be more than happy to sign this treaty," Harrington said while presenting to him a piece of paper. The treaty was purposefully written in English, with the intent that Lord Lyco wouldn't be able to read exactly what he was signing.

The man wasn't stupid though, he took one look at it before handing it off to Harrington's translator. "What does it say?" he demanded.

Harrington took the initiative, "There's a lot of details, but the basics are that your empire is to accept a British embassy in your capital, free trade is to be established with a set tariff, and your Empire will cede the port city you've just come from to Britain."

Lord Lyco blinked in surprise. "You want us to surrender Proptor?"

Harrington made a mental note that the port was called Proptor. "It would make for a good base of operations for our traders. If you cede the port, we could export many excellent things to you: tea, textiles, opium, tobacco, and manufactured items you've never seen before! To sign this treaty would greatly benefit-"

Harrington's speech was interrupted by Lyco slamming his fist down on the desk. "The Empire has never surrendered its territory willingly before, it shall not do so now."

The lord abruptly stood up in his chair and turned to leave the cabin. Harrington moved to follow him, with Watson and the translator moving closely behind. They caught up to Lord Lyco just as he was about to step off the ship.

"My lord, wait!" Harrington shouted after him. His translator echoed him in Latin.

Lord Lyco turned and crossed his arms, clearly impatient.

"Before you make any rash decisions, allow us to show just what we are capable of." Harrington had expected he'd need to make a display of force, it just depended on how much force he needed to use.

The lord rolled his eyes, but he didn't make any move to leave.

Harrington took that as his queue to begin the demonstration. "On my command fire the starboard guns!"

His men immediately rushed to their positions and prepped the guns for firing. Lord Lyco watched it all with a curious eye, though it was clear he didn't understand what they were doing.

He was just about to issue the order when he remembered something. "My lord, you might want to cover your ears for this."

The translator repeated his words in Latin and Lord Lyco raised an eyebrow, confused. He ultimately decided to follow Harrington's advice though and plugged his ears with his fingers.

"Fire!"

Instantly a thunderous roar exploded from the starboard side of the ship as all six guns fired their blank shots. The sound echoed across the water, probably reaching as far as Proptor and terrorizing the locals.

Harrington often forgot just how loud the guns were; during the heat of battle, he tuned out most of the sound and just focused on the task at hand, but when he did demonstrations such as this one, he got a rude awakening to their deafening nature.

Lord Lyco, to his credit, didn't try and jump overboard when the guns sounded out; instead he chose to hit the deck, probably fearing the devil himself was coming for them. Harrington didn't blame the man, this was after all his first exposure to cannonfire.

Lyco started muttering something himself in his bastardized Latin while shaking in fear, "Hardy, adiuva me… Hardy, adiuva me…"

Harrington turned to his translator. "What's he saying?"

The man rubbed his chin. "He's asking someone or something to help him. Maybe a local god?"

Harrington's face grew a wide grin. It was rather enjoyable to see the lord cowering rather than acting superior for once. Still, it was best that they at least kept up the appearance of being friendly. Stepping over to Lord Lyco, he offered his hand.

Still shaking, the lord stumbled to his feet and straightened himself up, slapping away Harrington's hand. He'd probably noticed that none of the crew on the _Lerwick_ were fearful and that he was the only one who'd been cowering.

"Well, my lord?" Harrington asked. "Will you reconsider the treaty?"

Lord Lyco took a deep breath to calm himself. "We have more ships than you, and we have more men. I don't care what your magic can do, by tomorrow evening you had better be gone or we'll make you leave," he declared with fiery spirit. As soon as he finished speaking, Lyco stepped onto the skiff he'd come aboard with and had his men start to row them away.

Harrington sighed and rubbed his brow; all that negotiation for nothing.

"Think he'll be back, Captain?" Watson asked from beside him.

Breathing in, Harrington look out towards Proptor, planning his next move. "He'll be back, I'm going to make sure of that."

* * *

The order to move out came early in the morning, at first light. Jack and his troop trotted along on their horses while envious infantrymen marched behind them in formation. They were moving out to await their transport to Falmart.

When Jack had told his men just where they were going, not a single one had believed him. It was only when he pulled out the official report did they start to consider that Jack wasn't just messing with them. Even now, he was fairly certain the vast majority of them didn't truly believe they were going to another world.

It didn't matter anyways; they could choose to believe what they wanted, it didn't change the fact that the British Army was sending them to another world. The 17th Lancers had fought in the Americas, they'd pacified India, they'd charged in Crimea, and they'd beaten the Zulus in Africa. Now they were going to fight in another world.

In preparation for the trip, Jack had made sure to replaced his broken, outdated, and otherwise ineffective kit with new gear. His blue lancer uniform had been patched up, complemented by his pith helmet, and he'd requisitioned new boots to replace the ones he'd already worn out.

On his left hip was a finely made cavalry sabre and across from it, on the right hip, was an Adams revolver. Jack considered himself to be a fairly decent shot with a pistol, but his true talent was with the sabre. The others in his regiment had neither the skill nor practice required to even come close to his ability. It was only a shame he didn't get to use said skill all that often in real battle.

In addition to the two weapons at his hip, resting in his stirrup was a cavalry lance. While many cavalry regiments in the British Army had come to resemble mounted infantry more than true cavalry, Jack's and a few other regiments still maintained the lance. They were called lancers after all.

However, while they did continue to use the lance, the 17th Lancers were by no means obsolete or outdated. Strapped to each man's saddle was a Martini-Henry Carbine, enabling them to become infantrymen if necessary. Jack's carbine in particular had come in rather handy during a skirmish against the Zulu where he'd shot a warrior just moments before the man was about to skewer him.

With all of their equipment and training, the 17th Lancers were a highly versatile regiment, and in Jack's opinion, the most useful.

As a captain, Jack commanded the smallest organization of cavalry, a troop which numbered around fifty men. Of those fifty men, two of them were his lieutenants, Bryant and a man named Guss. Jack could hear the two chatting behind him as they marched on.

"Why in God's name is there going to be magic in this new world?" Bryant asked.

Guss gave a toothy grin. "Well I've been thinking, doesn't a giant stone gate appearing out of nowhere sound like magic?"

Bryant shrugged. "I guess…"

"So that means, if this new world has the power to make gates appear out of nowhere, then surely they have the power to do some sort of magic, right?" Guss explained his theory.

"What, you think we're going to be fighting wizards and witches, do you?" Bryant asked sarcastically.

"I'm not sure, but just in case I've been trying to think of the best way to get a pyre together in a jiffy, incase we ever do find a witch." Guss either didn't notice the sarcasm or simply didn't care.

Bryant scoffed at the idea. "The only things I need are a box of ammunition and my carbine; that'll sort out whatever 'witches' or 'wizards' that come to steal our souls in the night."

Guss' face became flustered. "You can't kill witches with a gun!"

"Why not?"

"You've got to burn them, everyone knows that!"

"Uh huh…"

Guss suddenly had another thought. "Do you think our lances would work as wooden stakes?"

"What? Why would you need that?" Bryant asked with a cocked head.

"Well, werewolves of course!" Guss said as if it was obvious.

"Oh for God's sake…"

"Wait… what about vampires? Are we bringing garlic with us?" Guss wondered.

As amusing as it was to watch Guss annoy Bryant with his incessant questioning, Jack decided to save his lieutenant from the ordeal. "There aren't any magical beings in Falmart," he stated to Guss.

"How do you know?" he immediately questioned.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Because it wasn't in the bloody report."

"Well they could have just..." Guss stopped mid sentence, as if suddenly realizing the insanity behind all his questions. "Good point, sir."

"Let it be known!" Jack spoke loud enough for all of his men to hear. "We're fighting Roman lookalikes, not magicians!"

His troop started to laugh. As insane as it was, the Roman part was indeed in the report.

"And if we were fighting magicians!" Jack smiled to himself. "Well, there's nothing in the world a good shot from our carbines won't take down!

A cheer broke out among the men. There was nothing in this world or the next that the British Empire couldn't beat, or so they believed.

* * *

Third chapter, I'm really enjoying writing these. Gun boat diplomacy has always been a really interesting concept to me.

GhostScorch: I figured the British perspective would be more fitting considering they had the largest colonial empire, plus more people are familiar with the British Empire than the German Empire or Kingdom of Prussia. And yeah, writers block got me on that one, I figured taking a small break to explore this idea would help clear it up. And yes, BRITANNIA RULES THE WAVES!

Sleipnir: Pina's probably going to be one of the Imperial perspectives I do, the others will come when the British start exploring inland Sadera.

Perseus12: Unlike modern nations, the British made heavy use of local troops to help man their Empire, so expect local help.

Corporal Tommy: Glad you think so.

Feerzo 14: lol I'm not British but you can still get in the spirit of RULE BRITANNIA!

Also about volley firing, when the British used the Brown Bess musket (they used it for a very long time, over a hundred years of service) the commands were indeed "Make Ready, Present, Fire!" however when the Snider and then Martini-Henry rifles replaced the Brown Bess, they were much more accurate and no longer required to cock the firing lock. As such, new commands were created. Some of the old terminology was used for a little bit (I found a manual from 1870 detailing it as "Ready, Present, Fire!") but by the Zulu War it wasn't used as common (an 1877 version of the manual didn't even detail the commands for volley firing, just "Fire!" and "Cease Firing!"). The new commands differed by officer, regiment, troop type, ect. I took the "Volley Fire Present! Aim! Fire!" from the movie Zulu, but I also found the same command being used in an excerpt from the Boxer Rebellion. Other commands could just be as simple as "Present! Fire!" or something of that like. Anyways, sorry for the long paragraph, but I got curious about the subject from your review and I love to research, so yeah. If I'm wrong about this, please tell me because I love to research things.

hellisonfire345: Precisely, gunboat diplomacy in action. I don't know if I'll do a scene with Queen Victoria, I try to avoid putting real people into my stories because I feel that I'll misrepresent them in some way and disrespect them. And yes, scramble for sadera is still being toyed with.

The Blue Dragoner: Rule Britannia!

dilangp1999: Oh absolutely, the time period means that this won't be a complete stomp like the anime is when they encounter the magical creatures.


	4. Chapter 4

Morning had come, and Captain Harrington was ready to begin the day's events. As soon as he exited his cabin, Harrington looked over the buildings in Proptor. Thousands, if not tens of thousands, of people must have lived in the city; more than he'd hoped to have to deal with.

They were Saderans, true; apart of an enemy empire that had attacked Britain's navy without any justification. Apart of an enemy empire that had attacked Harrington and his crew without any justification. But it was not their fault for what had happened.

Harrington had long believed that the actions of the few should not dictate the fate of the many. The poor decisions of one king should not condemn a nation to death, nor should the actions of a single peasant decide what was to be done with his peers. This belief was difficult to maintain in the Royal Navy; often times personal beliefs are not taken into account when orders are given.

Was he a hypocrite? Perhaps. But he was also an officer in Her Majesty's Royal Navy; he had sworn an oath to do what was needed for Britain and he would not break that. No matter the cost to his own beliefs.

The ends would justify the means here, that's what he told himself.

"Load the portside guns with common shells!" he shouted out to his crew. "Signal for the other ships to do the same! Prepare to fire on my command!"

"Captain." Watson approached him from behind. "Do you not think you've been a little harsh with your demands?"

Harrington inhaled sharply. "How so?"

"You've asked for too much from a nation we've only just come in contact with. They haven't had time to truly recognize our power, of course they said no."

The captain frowned at his first mate. "That is exactly why I'm going to show them our power," he said gesturing towards the ship's guns.

Watson shook his head. "With all due respect, Captain; unless their emperor himself is brought before you and forced to sign, I doubt he'll accept your terms, and if the emperor won't accept the terms, then none of his governors or lords will either."

"Then we'll make show our power to their emperor as well," Harrington said dismissively.

"Captain, you're a more learned man, but I'd like to think I've got some sort of wisdom in me. Invading an empire of that size is a bad idea; there's a reason China hasn't been conquered by any European power, and that same reason applies here. It's simply too big."

Harrington sighed; Watson had a good point. "What would you suggest then?"

"Rather than turn Proptor into the new Hong Kong, we could make it the new Shanghai. Demanding the entire city is too much, but perhaps we could establish a British Concession, and then eventually have it expand as our government gains more influence in Falmart."

Harrington looked towards Proptor. He'd never been to Shanghai before, but he could imagine it looked something like what he was seeing in front of him. "Alright, I'll have the treaty revised."

Watson nodded. "Excellent, Captain."

"But we still need to send a message," Harrington suddenly declared. "They will never come to realize the true situation they are in unless we make them realize it."

Watson slowly began to frown.

"You're right that my terms were too harsh, Watson." Harrington's face grew grim. "But unless we show just what we are capable of, they will not agree to these new ones."

"As you say, Captain," Watson replied while sighing.

"We'll present them the revised treaty, but only after we've shown what it means to defy the British Empire." He turned to face the city once more and addressed his crew, "Open fire!"

* * *

Lord Lyco carefully watched the foreign ships anchored off the coast of Proptor. He'd given them until evening to leave or face the Empire's remaining fleet. So far they hadn't moved at all. _Arrogants fools…_

While it was true that the Empire's main fleet was most likely destroyed beyond the gate, Lord Lyco had command of an additional reserve fleet, numbering twelve ships; the British only had three ships. Their leader was either a fool or a maniac to stand his ground, especially when Lyco was offering him the chance to leave.

Their magic, as impressive as it looked and sounded, was nothing more than an illusion. For all that they had tried to impress him, he had seen the true nature of their magic; it could deal little to no actual damage. All it had caused was a slight ripple in the water and a deafening noise, neither of which could sink ships.

Even if they somehow managed to beat the reserve fleet, Proptor was garrisoned by hundreds of soldiers, far more than the meagre few they carried on their ships. An invasion would be impossible for them to conduct, no matter the circumstances.

_All bark and no bite it seems._

Suddenly the sound of British magic sounded off in the distance. Lyco could see smoke rising from their ships; once more they were attempting to intimidate him into submission. It wouldn't work; he knew of their tricks.

_Perhaps I'll have to sh-_

Pain wracked his body.

From behind, a deafening boom seemed to split the very air around him. Sharp ringing filled his ears, making it impossible for sounds to be heard. Invisible forces pressured into his body.

He attempted to think; he wanted to come to some sort of logical conclusion in the madness. He tried to remember something, think of anything, wrack his brain for some sort of explanation, but nothing came.

The blast had knocked any thoughts out of him.

Nausea and shock filled his mind, numbing away any attempts at reason. Lyco couldn't see anything, his sight was blurred to the point that only the rough outlines of objects were visible. It was all that he could do to prevent himself from emptying his stomach. His blurry vision began to fade away.

The darkness swallowed him whole.

* * *

Sleep…

It felt like sleep, but perhaps it was death.

Lyco could feel time pass, but nothing changed. An hour, a year, two seconds? He couldn't tell how much time was passing, only that it was indeed moving on.

His body was at peace.

His mind was at sleep.

His conscious drifted along like the wind.

He was…

* * *

_Get the hell up._

Lyco's body shot straight up. He could feel the pain again, the millions of tiny daggers sticking into his skin, preventing him from being at peace.

The ringing in his ears had stopped, but the sound did not. High pitched squealing was merely replaced by a new noise, a more real noise, a more terrifying noise. Screams.

Earsplitting, panicked, and very real screams.

Lyco's head tried to turn towards where it was coming from, but he couldn't find a single source. The noise seemed to be coming from everywhere.

_Get the hell up._

Years of hard work and experience had made Lyco's body strong, but in the moment, it was as if he was an infant child. His muscles groaned as he stumbled to his feet, but at least he could stand.

Looking at his surroundings, his mind finally allowed rational thought to enter. The docks were in ruins, several buildings had crumbled from the mysterious force, others were starting to burn from discarded torches and broken lanterns.

The dockyards were home to hundreds of sailors who came in and out of the port. Those very sailors were dying on the pavement.

Lyco could see dozens of men, dying on the ground. Some were missing arms, some missing legs, but most were just bloody messes with pieces of stone and metal embedded in their bodies. He felt the nausea return to his stomach.

_Get moving._

Where he needed to move, Lyco didn't know, all he knew was that he couldn't stay at the docks. Ignoring his body's demands for rest, he began to limp into the city and away from the docks.

A nearby sailor cried out to him, "H-help me!"

Lyco look at the man for a brief moment before turning away. He needed to move.

"Don't l-leave us!" another man pleaded.

Lyco didn't dare respond. He needed to move.

"I-I can't feel my legs! My legs!"

Lyco kept limping on. He needed to move.

The docks opened up to several different stone roads, all leading to various parts of the city. Lyco limped through the first one he reached; there wasn't time to think about where it lead.

He needed to move.

Limping, stumbling, and doing whatever he could to keep moving, Lyco managed to distance himself from the docks. His destination still wasn't clear, but at least he was out of that hell hole. The screams behind him slowly began to fade.

Just as he thought it was over, another blast shook the world around him.

The force didn't come from the docks this time, they originated in the city. Some buildings began to collapse around him, others withstood the force, but all of them were vulnerable to the fires.

Like most Imperial cities, Proptor was predominantly constructed from wood. There was good reason for this, wood was sturdy and plentiful, it could stand for years with little problems and was easy to work with. Wood was also very flammable.

Lyco could do nothing but watch, as small flames grew larger and began to consume the structures around him. Most people evacuated the buildings, but a few were trapped inside. He couldn't help them even if he tried.

He had to keep moving.

Rubble began to obstruct his path, the explosions had made plenty of it when they went off. Undeterred, Lyco hobbled his way over the remnants of stone foundations and wooden support beams; a thought came to him, underneath the rubble someone was probably buried alive, he quickly suppressed the idea. He had far more concerning things to worry about.

Another set of blasts went off, this time further away from him. The explosions were now coming from deep within the city. Lyco kept limping on.

_Are the Gods angry? Have we done something to mark us for dead? _He looked around him and the devastation in the streets. _No, the Gods were not responsible for this, even Hardy would not do something so cruel. Only man would._

In front of him, a burning building collapsed onto the street. Everyone was running for their lives, and with no one to fight the fire it had grown at an exponential rate.

"Help us out of here!" panicked screams came from a burning house across the street. Lyco ignored them, he couldn't help.

"Emroy please forgive my crimes, I will be fore-AHH!" a distant prayer was cut off by screaming.

Lyco could hear it again, the sound of more explosions. They came one after another, never relenting. Blast after blast impacted the city.

_More destruction, more fires, more suffering._

Suddenly an ash covered man ran up to his face. He was badly burned on one side of his face, and had a frantic look in his eyes. "My wife?! Where's my wife?!" he screamed.

"I-uhh…" Lyco couldn't speak, his throat was too sore and his body too weak.

The man ran off before he could muster the strength to reply. Lyco watched him run with weary eyes, it was all too much to take in at once.

Lyco abruptly noticed something, the explosions had stopped.

He listened closer, the screams of the dying and the crackling of the fires were still present, but the blasts no longer sounded off around the city. Lyco breathed out a bitter sigh of relief.

Looking around with a less panicked view, he could see that the explosions themselves had done relatively little damage to the city. Each blast could only take down one or two buildings, and most people had began to flee once the first explosions hit. He doubted they alone could have destroyed the city.

Unfortunately, they were also accompanied by fire.

The fires were concentrated only in small parts of the city at the moment, but Lyco knew they would spread. He'd knew what happened when a city was set alight, it was a common tactic used by the Empire to inspire fear in enemy kingdoms. Lyco had never thought it would happen to an Imperial city though.

Around him, men with buckets began to attempt to extinguish the fires. Their chances of actually stopping the inferno was low, but it would slow it down. Even if the flames were extinguished, there were probably dozens of other fires around the city.

Thousands would die, that much was certain, and further thousands would be left without employment, food, or homes. While only a couple of hundred may have died to the explosions, many more would die in the coming days.

From the sky, clumps of white powder began to rain down around them. It couldn't have been snow, the winter was long past and Proptor was in a warm climate. He then realized what it was: ash.

Lyco sank to his knees at the realization. _Why us?_

* * *

The _HMS Willet _sailed out of the darkness of the gate, accompanied by several other transport ships. Jack stared out into the new world as its light finally greeted him and his regiment.

"Strange how it's day time, isn't it?" Guss mentioned, stretching his arms as he spoke.

Bryant raised an eyebrow at him. "We've just entered an entirely new world, and your first thought is about what time of day it is?" he asked in disbelief.

Guss shrugged. "We left in the middle of the night, I'd have figured it'd also be dark over here."

"You truly are a brilliant mind," Bryant said, the sarcasm clearly evident in his tone.

"Glad you noticed!" Guss replied with a cheeky smile.

Jack grinned and turned away from his two lieutenants. Apart from the change in time of day, he couldn't find any evidence that they'd actually been transported into another world. The seas looked the same as any other sea he'd sailed over, for all he knew he could have been in the Caribbean.

"What's that cloud over in the distance?" Guss suddenly asked.

Jack turned to look at what he was talking about. It was a large cloud coming from what looked to be land, maybe even a settlement.

"That's not a cloud you idiot, it's smoke," Bryant corrected.

"Could be a cloud of smoke…" Guss grumbled.

Jack stepped towards the railing of the ship and took out his binoculars to get a better look at what exactly was the source of the smoke. It was definitely a city, roughly equal in size to somewhere like Cape Town, it was also burning.

He continued to look around, until Jack found three British warships anchored just a little while away from the city itself. Surrounding the ships were clouds of white smoke, slowly dissipating into the air.

They'd just used their guns.

Jack did a sharp inhale and brought the binoculars away from his eyes. Wars caused destruction, that was a basic truth, but it didn't even look like a battle had taken place. He didn't know the extent of the destruction that was currently happening in the city, but it couldn't be pretty.

Hopefully the civilians had time to evacuate prior to the bombardment, if not, then he didn't want to even begin imagining the death toll. Sighing, he continued to watch the city burn as they sailed closer and closer to it.

_Rule Britannia?_

* * *

So that's chapter 4. This one has a pretty drastic change in tone for it, but I wanted to demonstrate the true terror Lyco experienced from the bombardment so as to set up the next chapter's negotiations. Anyways, tell me how you feel about this type of chapter so I can either avoid them or put them in important spots in the future.

UN Peacekeeper: Both are good sayings.

Sleipnir: Absolutely the odds are going to be much fairer. The British had clear naval supremacy, however on land they'll have difficulties. Magic, monsters, and all that stuff is going to even the odds a lot, but the Zulus showed that even a superior enemy can be defeated through strategy (this is in reference to the battle of Isandlwana, not the entire Anglo-Zulu war, since the Zulus eventually lost against the British.)

Perseus12: Interesting ideas, I'll consider them.

hellisonfire345: Proptor did not fair well this chapter.

Feerzo 14: No modern Japanese, that'll just end in a Japanese curb stomp. For colonial troops, UN Peace Keeper asked me this in a dm so I'll just copy paste my reply:

Well the British have a habit of recruiting local troops for their campaigns, so we'll be seeing Saderans fighting in British colonial regiments. As for other places like Canada, Australia, India, and other colonies, before the First World War Britain didn't really send Canadians, Australians, or New Zealanders to fight in other colonies, they just fought local conflicts. India's a bit different, because of their proximity to China and Afghanistan they fought in both places, however they aren't close enough to the gate to justify that. The one colony that would be close enough to send troops in the Cape Colony in which the British might recruit Boers or even Africans to serve in Sadera. That's the lengthy answer, if any colonial troops are used it'll be Saderans and South Africans.

The Blue Dragoner: Unfortunately the capital is pretty far inland so no boats there. And I like Guss too, he's enjoyable to write.

haseyem: We'll see about getting some bigger ships into Falmart.

Kyleliberty: Thanks, glad you like it!

last admiral: You are 100% right about Lyco not having the authority, Harrington not having the experience, and it all being really ballsy.

Papon777: Glad you like the new story! Don't worry, I'll come back to Little Green Men eventually.

Corporal Tommy: That is an interesting idea with _HMS Devastation_ I'm just not sure the infrastructure (coal resupply bases) will be able to be constructed and maintained for a little while. The _Lerwick _is a fictional ship, just like most of my characters. It was getting hard to find a ship stationed near South Africa with all the capabilities I wanted it to have so I created the _Lerwick_.


	5. Chapter 5

The city of Proptor may have been in flames, but the docks were still in working order. _HMS Willet's _helmsman careful navigated past the wrecks of Saderan ships and found a part of the port that was clear enough to dock the ship. Jack was among the first to step onto Saderan soil.

Around him were dozens of dead men and dozens more dying men. There weren't any screams, the men were too exhausted to scream. Instead they simply moaned, awaiting death. It was a sad sight indeed.

Jack approached the first wounded man he saw, kneeling besides him. The sailor, he looked like a sailor at least, had a large piece of shrapnel in his stomach; it was a miracle the man was still alive.

Pulling out his canteen, Jack put it to the man's lips and urged him to drink. The sailor drank greedily, gulping down the water as quickly as he could; Jack had to pull the canteen away from him, fearing he would drown himself. He hung the canteen back around his neck and took a step back from him.

Unfortunately, there was nothing Jack could do for the sailor. The shrapnel in his stomach would most certainly kill him, if not that then the infection would; there was only so much the surgeons could do. It was better a quick death.

"Media vita in morte sumus…" Jack muttered as he drew his revolver from its holster.

The sailor realized what was happening and tried to sit up, doing anything to survive. Eventually let his head rest against the ground, accepting his fate.

Jack's revolver jolted as he pulled the trigger.

Breathing in deeply, he stepped away from the corpse and looked over the rest of the dying men. Slowly he looked towards the men coming off their ship, they too were disheartened at the sight before them.

"Get anyone with a chance of surviving to the surgeons, give a painless death to those who won't survive, and get the dead off the pavement." he ordered to the soldiers. "They may be our enemies, but they deserve better than this..."

None of them uttered a word, they simply set themselves to work. Technically Jack didn't have any authority to command men not apart of his troop, but they didn't seem to care. No one was going to protest against helping the dead and dying.

"Bryant, Guss, get over here!"

His two lieutenants walked over to him. "What is it, sir?" Bryant asked.

"Gather up our troop, the others can stay here, we're going to help anyone we can further inside the city."

"Are we supposed to do that, sir?" Bryant asked while looking around at the destruction.

"Our orders are to occupy the city until further notice, that's exactly what we're going to do." Jack didn't care if superiors would disapprove with what they were going to do, it needed to be done.

"What about the horses?" Guss questioned. "Are we going to get them off the ships?"

Jack shook his head. "The horses can wait, the dead can't. Hurry up and get our men together, the longer we wait, the worse it gets."

* * *

It seemed that God favored Proptor on that day, for it began to rain. The flames, which were otherwise inextinguishable, became smaller under the torrential downpour. Rain, however, did a very poor job at making the mood any less depressing.

Jack and his troop walked through the streets, looking for anyone still alive. Around them, the burned out remains of houses and stores were everywhere. The majority of the buildings that had been close to the docks were burned to the ground, very little remained.

The cavalrymen had yet to find anyone still breathing; in fact, they had a hard time finding any corpses too. It seemed that the fire had consumed all. Jack could only hope that most of the civilians had been able to flee the inferno.

"Did you imagine this would be what Sadera was like, Bryant?" Jack asked trying to gauge how his men were feeling.

The lieutenant took one look around before replying, "Bloody Saderans deserved it; they could have surrendered, but they chose to be stubborn."

Guss frowned at the response. "We don't know that! For all we know our ships could have opened fire for no reason!"

"Our navy would never do that, to think otherwise is treasonous!" Bryant declared.

"You've got your head stuffed up your ass if you think that!"

Bryant's face went red. "Is that so?! Well then I'll ju-"

"That's enough," Jack interrupted. "You're both officers, you shouldn't be squabbling like this in front of the men."

"Sorry, sir," both men immediately apologized.

"It doesn't matter what our navy di-" Jack paused as a figure came into view. He blinked a couple times, not truly believing what he was seeing. In front of them was a man, at least he thought it was a man, that looked to be the mix of a wolf and a human.

Guss immediately drew his pistol, shouting, "Werewolf!"

Jack grabbed the revolver before Guss could fire a shot. "Put that down you idiot!"

The wolfman came closer, causing Jack's men to draw their own pistols. Thankfully they had enough sense to keep the revolvers pointed down. There was a tense standoff as the wolfman looked over Jack's troop.

Stepping forward, Jack decided to break the ice. "Do you speak Latin?" he asked using the skills his father had drilled into his head.

The wolfman looked at his with a tilted head before finally responding, "Latin? I've traveled far, but I've never heard of a language like that. Do you mean Saderan?"

Jack slowly nodded; of course they would have their own name for Latin. It didn't matter though, they could communicate, even if the wolfman's accent was strange. He noted that the wolfman was covered in ash.

"Have you seen anyone else alive?"

"No," the wolfman mumbled, his voice slightly cracking.

"Do you need any assistance?"

"No," the reply was firmer this time.

Before Jack could ask anymore questions, the wolfman began to walk past them. None of his men dared to get in his way, so he soon began to walk down the street they'd just come from. Jack watched him for a moment before ordering them to keep moving.

The rain was doing an effective job at dousing the fires. Jack could tell that the last of the fires would be dead before the day was over; he just hoped the same wasn't true for any dying men in the city.

Eventually, they found another survivor. Stumbling out from behind a pile of rubble, a man wearing torn up robes approached them. Instantly, two of Jack's men ran out to help him walk, but they were pushed aside by the man.

He cleared his throat and looked towards Jack. "Y-you're British?"

Jack was surprised the man knew what British meant. "Indeed we are, can we help you?"

The man began to cough violently. "Help?" He gestured the destroyed city around him. "You've helped enough, take me to your lord."

Jack exchanged a glance with Bryant. "Why do you need to see our lord? Just who are you?"

More coughing followed before the man was finally able to speak, "I am Lord Drussillus Lyco…" He paused and took a deep breath. "I need to surrender the city."

* * *

The Imperial Fleet was destroyed, Proptor's garrison had deserted en masse, the governor himself was dead. Lord Lyco was the only one with any authority left in Proptor.

In truth, Lyco wasn't absolutely certain that the governor was dead, but he certainly wasn't giving out orders. Most of the noble men and women had fled the city as soon as they could, heading to the capital with whatever valuables they had left. None of them wanted to see what would happen under British occupation.

The commoners weren't any luckier, most of them couldn't afford to travel to Sadera, so they had to stay behind and deal with whatever came next. Rain had saved good portion of the city, but many still were left homeless and unemployed. Lyco didn't want to think what would happen when winter set in; it wouldn't be pretty.

None of that mattered for the time being, he had far more immediate things to deal with. Lyco wasn't even sure if he'd still be in charge by the time winter set in, let alone alive. For the first time in his life, Lyco's life was entirely in the hands of the enemy.

The British soldiers who'd found him were nice enough, their leader, Jack, knew Saderan surprisingly well and he had promised him he wouldn't be harmed. Lyco had to doubt that promise though, rarely was it ever the case that captured generals were allowed to return home with their heads on their body, especially after resisting.

Jack and his men had handed Lyco off to another group of British soldiers who then promptly brought him aboard a small boat and started rowing towards the British ships. Lyco himself had little to say in the matter, he was after all their prisoner.

In reality, Lord Lyco had no authority to sign any treaties that gave away territory to other nations, that right was reserved only for the Emperor himself. The senate technically also had the power to do so, but in practice they'd have to get the Emperor's approval first. Lyco would have to sign Britain's treaty, there wasn't much option in that regard, but he didn't know what fate would await for him when he brought the news back to the Emperor.

Their boat arrived at the British ship, and Lyco was promptly dragged onto it. The ship was the same one he'd been on previously, the _Lertick_ or something like that; he couldn't quite remember. None of the sailors looked very happy with his presence aboard it.

Lyco was brought into the same room they'd hosted negotiations previously. There was an additional man sitting down at the desk, Lyco didn't recognize him, so he must have only arrived recently. As always, a man was there to translate for them.

"Lord Lyco?" Captain Harrington asked while looking him up and down. Lyco had forgotten up until this point that he was still covered in ash and dirt.

He nodded in affirmation.

The captain cleared his throat. "This is General Alford, he's in command of our land forces here," Harrington said while gesturing towards the additional man.

General Alford nodded his head. "A pleasure to meet you, my lord."

Lyco stifled his wheezing, all of the smoke had given him a bad cough, and nodded. "The same with you."

Harrington cleared his throat. "I assume you are here to offer your formal surrender?"

"Yes," Lyco rasped out. "For the sake of the city, I surrender."

"You'll have to agree to the terms of our treaty then," General Alford said while pushing the paper forward.

Lyco looked at it, but still couldn't read their strange writing. "Proptor's yours then? You're taking it?"

"Actually, no," Captain Harrington interrupted. "Having heard your objection, we decided to revise the treaty. We'll be taking only a small part of the city to establish a British Concession, all other parts of the treaty remain the same."

Lyco stared dumbfounded at the British officers. If those terms had been presented earlier, he might have accepted them. Still, it didn't matter if Lyco accepted the terms, he had no authority over these matters; the British didn't know that though.

"I'll sign your treaty, but I'll have to go to the Emperor to make it certain." Proptor was only about a two days ride from Sadera, it wasn't a long journey by any means.

"Excellent! Once you sign, we'll let you travel back to your capital to make the necessary arrangements, and in the meantime we'll set up our concession," Harrington approved.

General Alford nodded. "Indeed, by the time you've made it back, our engineers will have created the boundaries for our concession. Until it is finalized though, we'll be occupying the city if that's alright with you?" It wasn't a question.

"Of course." Lyco didn't have a say in the matter anyway. "If I might ask, where are you going to set up your concession?"

General Alford looked at Harrington before replying, "If I'm not wrong, a large area in the city near the docks has just been cleared of buildings, we'll be setting up around there."

Lyco stared for a moment before nodding, "Of course…"

Harrington handed Lyco a quill pen and nodded to the treaty in front of him. "If you could just sign at that line on the bottom."

Lyco signed the treaty, still unable to actually read what he was signing, and handed it back to Harrington. "I'll be going then…"

"Farewell, friend." Lyco's blood nearly boiled when he heard Harrington call him a friend, but he forced himself to ignore it and head for the door.

"Farewell, captain."

* * *

Emperor Molt Sol Augustus was in deep thought, listening to a messenger who'd just ridden day and night from Proptor. The man claimed that the fleet sent beyond the gate had been entirely wiped out, and not only that, but the otherworlders had sent their own expedition to Falmart.

He looked up from his thinking for a moment. "You say they are preparing to conquer the city?"

"Y-yes, your majesty." The proper way to address an emperor would have been "your imperial majesty," but Molt chose not to correct him. "They only brought three ships, but more may be coming."

"Mhmm…" If Proptor were to fall, the Empire would appear weak to neighboring kingdoms and even its own vassal states. Molt could not afford the Empire looking weak, they didn't have the resources to effectively man every border at once in case of invasion.

"I believe Sealord Lyco was planning to attack them with the reserve fleet when I left, your majesty," the messenger mentioned.

Molt sighed, typically that would be reasonable, the reserve fleet was at least three times the number of ships the otherworlders had. But if these ships had managed to defeat the expeditionary fleet they'd sent, then clearly they were more powerful than they thought. No, defeating them by sea wouldn't do, they'd have to beat them on land.

"How many soldiers can we have ready in two days?" he asked Marcus, his trusted retainer.

"Typically only a few hundred, but Prince Zorzal was making ready for an invasion of the Warrior Bunnies, with those men we have ten thousand soldiers, in addition to auxiliary support, ready. The Prince's invasion can be delayed a few weeks to raise more soldiers."

Molt nodded. "What auxiliary support will they have?"

Marucs thought about it for a moment. "We can muster two dragon riders and several hundred goblins to assist with the defense. If we had more time we coul-"

"Have it done then," Molt said cutting him off. "Proptor will not fall to the otherworlders, we'll crush them at the city then prepare another force to conquer what lies beyond the gate."

Marcus nodded. "Yes, your imperial majesty."

* * *

Chapter 5, hurray. I've been listening to a mixture of British music from all eras, hearing Rule Britannia certainly does inspire me to write more. Also if you'll note, I've shifted Zorzal's Warrior Bunny Invasion forward three years, this is not three years in the past from the anime. I didn't want to mess with any ages (Lelei would be 12 if I set this story 3 years before the anime).

Kyleliberty: The treaty of Proptor is just the beginning, more will come.

hellisonfire345: So Proptor's a canon city which is mentioned on some of the maps of Falmart (though it's never mentioned in the anime or manga by characters), the same maps also show several other ports, but don't give a name to them, so I guess I'll have to take the liberty of naming them. And there is a large river near Sadera, however it starts in the north and empties into the ocean pretty far away from Proptor, so gun boats wont be sailing up to Sadera anytime soon.

Sleipnir: There's going to be a battle between the Saderans and British soon, but I like talking about this so I'll tell you about the tactics. At this time there are generally two ways that the British fought war which are demonstrated rather well in the Anglo-Zulu war, the Second Boer War (the first Boer war had the British using the same tactics they used against the Zulu which proved disastrous against Boer marksmanship) and the Second Anglo-Afghan War.

Against the Zulus they would generally form lines of infantry which allowed them to use their firepower effectively and then bait the Zulus into a charge (usually via light cavalry harassment or artillery fire) so that they could eliminate them with their superior firepower. This strategy worked effectively in the Battle of Ulundi, the last battle of the war which resulted in British victory, but less effectively at the battle of Isandlwana which resulted in British defeat (due to a variety of factors including lack of ammunition, being over extended, and generally underestimating the Zulus).

Against the Boers however, they no longer were the only army using firearms in great numbers. Due to this the British suffered a lot of defeats early on, however they eventually managed to adapt their tactics. These tactics were adopted from the Boers and included things like allowing small units to move with more freedom, using covering fire from artillery and other riflemen, and outflanking Boer defenses. In all the Boers managed to inflict a huge number of defeats against the British (who once again underestimated their enemy), but the British eventually adapted new strategies, brought in more men, and simply overwhelmed the Boers who couldn't keep up (though guerrilla warfare would continue).

In Afghanistan, the British also faced opponents with guns. During the war they primarily fought offensive battles, assaulting Afghan positions. To do this, they used a variety of tactics including using the cover of darkness to assault defensive positions, having artillery do preliminary bombardments, and having infantry conduct assaults against the defensive positions with extreme discipline (sometimes even forcing them out of their position using bayonets despite taking heavy losses). Once the Afghans were cleared from their defenses, cavalry would be used to attempt to intercept the retreating forces and crush them (though this had varying success).

So there's the three different styles of warfare I can think of for this general time period. If I'm wrong about anything, please tell me and I'll correct it, this is all based on some research I did by looking at the different battles in the conflicts. I do enjoy doing this, so if you have any other questions I'll be glad to research them.

Perseus12: That's the general plan, but only so much can be done with the medical technology in 1879.

Feerzo 14: No Rule Britannia for now.

RN6Pro: That's over 30 years from the current time the story's set, so it's not likely. I don't want to 100% rule it out, but I wouldn't say it's likely.

Kirov of the USSR: It's an interesting feeling.

ATP: That's absolutely a possibility, just at the moment the British are right next to a major port city so they're going to focus there before branching out.

The Blue Dragoner: Britannia rules the waves.


	6. Chapter 6

Lord Lyco knelt in front of Emperor Molt, lowering his head as low as it could go. Two days had passed since the attack on Proptor, and he'd just arrived in Sadera. The Emperor was very clearly not happy with him.

"Why are you not in Proptor commanding our fleet?" Molt hissed out at him.

"I couldn't stay…" Lyco murmured.

Marcus snapped at him, "Speak clearly when you are addressing your emperor."

"I couldn't stay!" he shouted louder, remembering the destruction that had been brought on Proptor.

"Why?" The question seemed innocent, but Lyco knew Molt wouldn't react well to the reason.

"Proptor fell!" he shouted suddenly standing up. "They used their magic and wrecked destruction across the city! We could do nothing!"

The Emperor's personal guards immediately stood at attention, ready to execute Lyco at a moment's notice. Molt himself looked disgusted at Lyco. "You have allowed territory to be captured without even fighting back! You shame our Empire!"

"Their magic was too strong, if we resisted, we would have been cut down like dogs!"

Molt stood from his throne. "You show your cowardice with your words!"

Lord Lyco clenched his fists. "Fuck your Empire, fuck shame, fuck the Emperor!" he shouted back, spitting at Molt's feet.

The Emperor simply nodded at his guards. They immediately snatched Lyco from behind and restrained him. "Have Lord Lyco put in a cell. When Proptor's been retaken, he'll be executed in front of it."

His guards nodded and dragged Lyco out of the room. The lord had nothing to say as he was brought into a cell. Lyco had a feeling they wouldn't have the chance to execute him at Proptor.

* * *

Four days had passed since the Bombardment of Proptor, in that time the British had worked hard to establish themselves. The wrecks of Imperial ships were being cleared from the docks, though much work was still needed. Burned out buildings were torn down and replaced by British tents, at a later date more permanent buildings would have to be established.

With no real authorities left in Proptor, the British had taken it upon themselves to maintain law and order, until a suitable governor could be found. Many of the civilians didn't care who maintained order, just that someone did it.

Additionally, the first ships carrying Anglican Missionaries had arrived in the city; these missionaries had set to work helping those who'd lost everything to the fires. Many converted to Christianity, though mainly because Christians were guaranteed by missionaries to receive food and not because they actually believed in the faith. The same thing that had happened in China, giving the rise to so called "Rice Christians" was now happening in Proptor.

In order to properly establish British authority, seven regiments of foot were transferred to Proptor, in addition to the 17th Lancers. While on paper a regiment was supposed to number two battalions, or two thousand men, in practice one of said battalions would always be stationed in Britain while the other was overseas. The result was that Britain had seven thousand infantry and six hundred lancers stationed in Falmart.

Of course, the Royal Artillery hadn't been forgotten, ten artillery pieces and two gatling guns had been brought through the gate in order to support their efforts. These pieces were the very same that had defeated the Zulus at Ulundi and their crews were all experienced at dealing with primitive armies.

While it certainly couldn't compete with the numbers of any local armies, the British expedition into Falmart would certainly be a formidable force for any one who tried to cross them.

Captain Jack rode out with his troop of men, into the Saderan countryside. As soon as they'd gotten their horses off the ships, General Alford had started sending the 17th Lancers on reconnaissance mission in an attempt to get a better idea of their surroundings. So far they'd managed to draw up a basic map of their geographical surroundings, which were then compared with the locally drawn maps they'd seized.

Outside of Proptor the land appeared to be mostly clear, with patches of trees here and there, but no major forests or mountains. It almost reminded Jack of Zululand, although it was much less dry and for that he was thankful. During their reconnaissance, they'd spotted several villages, but as per orders, they left them alone. Jack doubted any villagers would react well to foreign soldiers suddenly showing up at their doorstep anyway.

"So what do you think, Bryant? Better or worse than Zululand?" Jack asked as they rode along.

"Are you joking? Falmart's a hundred times better than Zululand could ever be!"

Jack chuckled. "And why's that, eh?"

"The climate's far more agreeable, I'd even go as far to say that this place has better weather than Britain."

"That's not exactly hard to beat," Guss chipped in. "Unless you like constant rain, of course."

"Is it better than India then?" Jack asked both of his lieutenants.

"Sir, you know my opinions about that monsoon ridden hellhole," Bryant stated.

Guss shook his head. "This place is nice, but India will always have a special place in my heart."

Jack nodded at their responses and looked back ahead. "While I agree India was a fantastic place to be stationed, it's my opinion that Falmart is just slightly better."

"It's almost like some sort of magic is keeping the sun out," Bryant mused. Guss began to open his mouth, but Bryant cut him off before he could speak, "Not the kind of magic with wizards and witches."

Guss rolled his eyes. "We met a werewolf in the flesh! How can you still rule out that magic exists here?"

"Because it wasn't in the report," Byrant mimicked Jack's previous reply.

"Neither were werewolves!" Gus protested.

Sighing, Jack looked back and replied, "Guss, I've long practiced the concept of only believing what I've seen, and so far I haven't seen any evidence of real magic."

"Not a Godly man are you…" Guss muttered.

Jack shook his head and looked back towards the front. "No, that I am not."

Suddenly in the distance Jack thought he saw something. He ordered the troop to halt and the bugler relayed his commands. In the distance, he thought he saw a bit of color in the sea of green around them.

Pulling up his binoculars, he took a closer look. At first he couldn't spot anything, but soon enough a purple banner became evident in the distance. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of soldiers were marching towards them, all wearing Roman style armor.

"What do you see, sir?" Bryant questioned from beside him.

Jack double checked to make sure he was hallucinating. There were definitely men marching towards them. "An army, looks to be Saderan. How far are we away from Proptor?" he asked.

"We've been riding for half the day, if we take a direct route we could probably be back before dark," Guss answered.

Jack nodded. "Good, we'll ride back to inform General Alford. They're mainly on foot, so they'll have to camp for the night. We'll probably meet them in a battle tomorrow morning."

"Our first battle in Falmart, sir?" Bryant asked with a grin.

"Aye, but let's get back to Proptor first!" Jack urged his horse to trot in the direction they'd just come from. They had a battle to prepare for.

* * *

Captain Harrington sat with General Alford as they celebrated a successful pacification of Proptor. Just that day, Alford's infantry managed to clear up the few remaining Saderans who attempted to resist British occupation, it was a fine thing to celebrate indeed.

The two were sitting in Harrington's cabin, with the British Concession in Proptor being little more than a bunch of tents the ships were the only suitable place to celebrate, and enjoyed a decent meal.

Harrington knew that in the coming weeks, one of two things would happen, either a higher ranking officer, probably an admiral, would come to replace him, or he would be promoted to a suitable rank to continue his command over British naval forces in Falmart. The second option was obviously preferable to him, and having a friend such as General Alford would be very helpful in the matter. Thus he was making every effort to cozy up with the general.

Putting on his best smile, Harrington began to flatter the man, "Admirable work you've done with the repairs in Proptor, sir."

General Alford waved it off. "It's nothing, mostly just the Royal Engineers doing their work."

"Still, under your leadership, the city will soon be like new again, sir."

"Maybe…" He said, looking down in thought. Suddenly he looked up again. "Also, you don't need to call me 'sir' while in private, Alford will do fine."

Harrington smiled, he was getting somewhere. "Well, I believe tha-"

Abruptly the door to the cabin burst open, interrupting their conversation. Harrington's smile faded as he looked over the man who'd come through the door, he was an officer, but that was all Harrington could tell by his uniform. Harrington didn't know army uniforms that well.

"Colonel Burton, what brings you here?" Alford asked recovering from his surprise.

"Sorry to interrupt, sir," Burton apologized. "But one of my men found something during their reconnaissance mission."

"I see…" Alford said while clearing the table of their dinners. "What is it then?"

Burton brought out a map of the local region and laid it out across the table. "The Saderans are marching an army towards us." He immediately pointed to a point on the map. "My men found them here a couple hours ago, they've probably decided to camp for the night here." Burton pointed to another point closer to Proptor.

"Do we know how many men they've sent?"

"Anywhere from a couple thousand to over ten thousand, sir."

"I see…" Alford rubbed his chin as he looked over the map.

Burton pointed to Proptor on the map. "We don't have enough men to man the entirety of the outer wall, but if we-"

"No," Alford stopped him.

"No, sir?"

"We will not have a battle at Proptor, the people have gone through too much for that."

Burton nodded in understanding. "What would you have us do then, sir?"

Alford pointed to a place on the map mid way between Proptor and the Saderan encampment. "Tomorrow morning we'll march out and meet them in the field. Our firepower will be able to make up for the difference in numbers."

"Understood, sir," Burton affirmed.

Alford stoop up from his seat and turned towards Harrington. "I'm very sorry, captain, but I'm afraid I'll have to be leaving you for the night, more pressing matters have come to attention."

Harrington nodded. "Of course, it's no trouble. Good fortune to you."

General Alford nodded back at him and exited the cabin with Colonel Burton. Harrington rubbed his head with a sigh, it seemed that he'd have to wait a little longer to gain Alford's support.

* * *

Morning came along with the hustle of thousands of British soldiers preparing for battle. Jack and his troop marched alongside the infantry as they approached the site of the coming battle. With the sun shining, the British army prepared their position for the Saderan advance.

There wasn't enough time to prepare defensive fortifications, but they wouldn't be necessary against an army without firearms anyway. General Alford ordered the army to deploy themselves in a manner that would allow for the British firepower to be exploited fully.

Forming a four rank thick line at the front, the British infantry had an open arc of fire in front of them, ready to pepper the enemy with their rifles. The two gatling guns were integrated into the line's center, prepared to wreak havoc on the enemy; Jack had seen just how effective gatling guns were against the Zulus, he imagined they'd be equally as effective against the Saderans.

Behind the main line, the Royal Artillery sat on elevated ground, giving them a good vantage point over the entire battlefield. The shrapnel shells that their cannons were equipped with were very capable of destroying entire formations of soldiers. In addition, they also carried canister shells in case the enemy got too close.

Besides the artillery, Jack's troop and the rest of the 17th Lancers were being held in reserve in case something needed their attention. It was always good to have reserves and being light cavalry meant that the 17th Lancers would be able to respond to whatever came up very quickly. As a result of their placement, Jack also had a very good view of the battlefield.

While they'd been deploying their forces, several Saderan scout riders had come to observe their position. General Alford didn't order any men to chase them down, so they were allowed to return to their army unharmed. Jack couldn't see the reasoning behind it, but he supposed the general knew better than he did.

Less than an hour later, the Saderan army marched onto the battlefield.

They had at least several thousand more men that the British and marched in disciplined formations. The Saderans had arranged themselves into a wedge, with their heavily armored knights at the very front and infantry backing them up. If Jack had to guess, their plan was to charge into the British infantry, breaking through the relatively thin formations, and then exploiting the gap to surround them.

"What the hell are they doing? Attacking us from the front like fools?" Bryant muttered out as he watched the Saderans march forward. "Even the Zulus had the sense to exploit our flanks…"

"They haven't ever faced British firepower on the field," Jack reminded him. "Where we see a firing line, they see an over extended infantry formation."

"Bloody primitives…" Bryant murmured to himself.

"I can't argue there…"

The Saderans marched slower than the Zulus had; their heavy armor made it so they couldn't advance with speed without tiring their infantry too much, instead they were forced to conduct a slow march out in the open. British artillery chose to exploit this weakness.

Ten cannons opened fire at once, launching their ordinance into the Saderan formations. Jack could hear the distant explosions as they ripped through the tightly packed groups of men, killing dozens with each shot.

Another barrage of cannonfire once more tore apart infantry formations, but the Saderans kept advancing. None of them fled in the face of British firepower.

Several more barrages impacted the Saderan formation, hundreds must have died, but the Saderans didn't care. With stalwart discipline, they continued to march.

Jack suddenly noticed that a few blocks of Saderan infantry were breaking off from the main advance. They began to march further from the main line, probably in an attempt to flank the British infantry and avoid artillery fire.

More barrages of artillery fired into the Saderan lines, but they failed to deter their advance. Soon enough, they came close enough to begin their charge.

The thunderous hooves of Saderan knights shook the ground as they charged at the British center. Jack had to admire their skill, they held a tight formation despite the high speeds they were riding at, even Jack's men sometimes had trouble with that.

Unfortunately they rode right into rifle range.

The first volley broke apart their tight formations. Dozens of knights were either shot out of their saddles or had their horses shot from under them and were promptly crushed to death by their comrades.

Still, the Saderan charge didn't falter and they continued to ride on. Their dying comrades didn't phase their steadfast discipline.

The second volley further continued to decimate their ranks.

Jack could now see some of the knights having second thoughts about their charge; a few broke off and started to retreat. The majority, however, continued charging.

The third volley broke their charge.

Having lost too many knights, the survivors couldn't succeed in their charge even if they did reach the British lines. Turning their horses, they fled from the British guns as fast as they could.

Undeterred by the retreating knights, the Saderan infantry formed tight formations and advanced as one. They interlocked their shields, probably hoping to deflect the same fire that had shattered the knights, and slowly advanced forward.

It didn't work.

British rifle volleys began to tear apart their formations, punching through the shields like they were made of paper. At the same time, the gatling guns began to fire. Steady streams of bullets cut across Saderan infantry like they were nothing.

Despite all of the combined firepower, the Saderan infantry continued to advance. They'd turned into more of a horde at this point, rifle and artillery fire having destroyed any semblance of a formation, and sprinted at the British lines.

Suddenly a messenger came riding down to Jack.

"Captain Campbell?" the man demanded.

Jack nodded.

"Orders from Colonel Burton, you're to take your troop and route the infantry attempting to flank on the left!" Jack didn't get a chance to respond before the messenger took off riding back to where he'd come from.

Looking over his men, Jack addressed them, "You heard the man! To the left flank!"

Jack spurred his horse forward, heading to the far left of the infantry line. His troop followed his lead, lances in their stirrups and carbines sheathed on their saddles.

Across the otherside of the battlefield, Jack could see another troop of cavalry doing the mimicking their actions and riding towards the right flank. It seemed that the commanders hadn't forgotten about the flanking Saderans.

Jack's troop arrived on the left flank and they rode out to meet the Saderan infantry.

Having moved in a wide pattern to avoid rifle fire, the Saderans were out of sight from the British infantry. The lancers luckily managed to reach them before they converged on the flank.

"Present carbines!" he shouted out. "Fire at will!"

Immediately the lancers drew their carbines and began to fire from the saddle at their opponents. Normally they'd dismount before using their carbines, but Jack didn't want to risk being caught in a melee while on foot.

Jack himself fired with his carbine, dropping one of the Saderans dead. Quickly he ejected the spent cartridge, placing another into the breach, and opening fire once more.

While not as impressive or frightening as a volley, the troop's fire was very capable of causing a large number of casualties. It only took a few minutes for the Saderan formation to be shattered.

"Ready lances!" Jack ordered. He sheathed his carbine and grabbed his lance from the stirrup; his men followed suit.

"Charge!"

The bugler sounded out the charge and soon the lancers were galloping towards the remaining Saderan infantry.

Charging an infantry formation was usually suicide, but having broken the unit with carbine fire, there was little formation left to speak of. Some of the Saderans saw the cavalry charging down on them and began to run, others stood their ground despite not being formed up to resist the charge.

Both were run down by British lances.

Jack charged down a man standing his ground, aiming his lance for the man's body. With a sudden jolt, his lance impacted, piercing through the man's breastplate and skewering his body. He was forced to let go of the lance as it got stuck in the corpse.

Drawing his sabre, he charged down another man, cutting across his back, and dropping him dead. The man didn't even get a chance to yell out before he died.

Around him, the lancers were making quick work of the infantrymen. Some of them managed to keep their lances, but others had lost them like Jack. The bodies of dead men lay all across the ground.

This was why cavalry was such an effective weapon. Especially against fleeing men.

Suddenly an ear piercing shriek sounded out on the battlefield.

Jack looked around, trying to spot the source of the noise. "Where's that bloody coming from?!"

"I don't know, sir!" Bryant shouted back.

Guss went wide eyed and started pointing at the sky. "D-d-dragon!"

Jack's eyes followed his pointing and he spotted it too. A massive lizard like creature, flapping its wings in the air, and being ridden by a Saderan. It was a dragon.

And it was coming right at them.

"Fall back! Get back to the lines!" he shouted in a panic.

The lancers didn't need to be told twice, they immediately started galloping back to the infantry, hoping they'd be able to do something the lancers couldn't. Unfortunately the dragon was faster than them.

Moving to a lower altitude, the dragon flew right on their tail. Jack watched in horror as it bit into one of his men, horse and all, killing him instantly.

The rider had a lance on him and used it to skewer another man, much in the same way they'd just done to the Saderan infantry. It seemed they couldn't run away from the dragon.

"God damn it!" Jack yelled to himself as he pulled his Adams revolver from its holster.

Firing all six shots, he tried to shoot the rider out of his saddle. None of his bullets hit, they instead impacted the dragon's scales and simply bounced off, but it was enough to convince the rider not to fly at such low altitudes.

The rider pulled his dragon away from the lancers, allowing them some breathing room. It instead started flying towards the infantry line.

Swooping low, the dragon tore through a company of soldiers with its claws, killing many of them and wounding the others. Immediately the infantry's focus turned towards the dragon and they began to open fire with their rifles.

Despite the higher caliber of the Martini-Henry rifle compared to Jack's Adams revolver, none of the bullets were able to pierce the dragon's scales. They were unable to do anything against it.

Just as Jack thought things couldn't get worse, another shriek sounded out. From above the clouds, another dragon swooped down on the right flank and began attacking the men there.

As the two dragons continued to attack British infantry lines, the Royal Artillery turned one of its cannons towards a dragon. It tried to fire at the dragon, but missed as it continued to fly past; hitting flying targets wasn't something commonly learned by artillery crews.

Jack's troops managed to reach the faltering British lines and join in firing with their carbines. It was pointless, the dragon's scales were too strong to pierce. _Unless…_

From what Jack could see, the dragons were covered by their scales from head to toe, with a few notable exceptions. The eyes were exposed, but Jack doubted they could manage a shot into the eye, and the wings were made of some sort of sinewy muscle.

"Fire at the wings!" He shouted to both his own men and the infantry. "Take the fuckers to the ground!"

Immediately, there was a noticeable difference in the effectiveness of their rifles. The dragon they were firing at now longer was able to fly in low swoops, instead it began to falter in the air and lose speed.

Jack realized they needed more firepower, so he took his horse and began to gallop across the line, shouting for them to fire at the wings. Lacking any better ideas, the infantry followed his orders and soon both dragons were having trouble flying.

The first dragon to fall did so in dramatic fashion. With its wings turned into swiss cheese, the beast was unable to maintain its flight. It plummeted out of the air, landing face first with a sickening crunch, killing both dragon and rider.

Seeing its brother die, the other dragon instead chose to fly to the ground on its own terms. Falling to the ground in a controlled descent, the dragon and its rider began to walk towards the infantry.

An artillery gun fired at the dragon, hitting it with a shrapnel shell, but not killing it. They didn't have the armor piercing shells needed to kill it, only the Royal Navy carried those for use against ironclads. It seemed once more the dragon was invulnerable to their weapons.

Suddenly a lancer began charging the beast head on. Jack blinked, making sure he wasn't seeing any hallucinations, the lancer was Guss.

Unable to do anything but watch, Jack looked as Guss charged the monster, lance in hand. The dragon turned its head towards Guss, most likely curious at the man's bravery, it proved to be a fatal mistake.

Driving his lance home, Guss managed to skewer the beast through its eye. There was a terrifying shriek let out as the dragon immediately lashed out around him, hitting Guss in the chest with a claw. Finally, the dragon dropped to the ground, dead.

Without second thought, Jack galloped his horse towards Guss. The battlefield was covered in blood and corpses, but he ignored it all. He needed to get to Guss.

But by the time Jack had made it to Guss, he was already dead.

He dismounted as fast as he could and ran to Guss' body, kneeling besides it when he arrived. The gash ran across from hip to shoulder and had turned his blue uniform into a red mess. Realizing nothing could be done, Jack slowly stood.

"H-help!" a Saderan cry came from besides the dragon's body.

Jack walked over to the Saderan, slowly placing new cartridges into his revolver.

"I surrender! I give up!" the Saderan shouted as Jack approached. His legs were trapped beneath the dead dragon.

"You rode the dragon?" he asked slowly.

The man nodded quickly. "Y-yes, you can ransome me fo-"

Jack's pistol jolted in his hand.

* * *

This is the longest chapter so far. Really this could have been split into two chapters, but I didn't want to leave off on a cliff hanger, so here we are.

Corporal Tommy: Hope you're satisfied with the battle. And yeah that's on my list of things to do.

hellisonfire345: I'm just glad that people like the mess of words and ideas that I some how manage to arrange into a semi coherent story. Reviewers like you really helped me during tough times, so I'm thankful.

Perseus12: All good ideas. Unfortunately Zorzal wasn't on the battlefield here to get shot. Rule Britannia!

Feerzo 14: Sorry for the confusion, but I'm not actually making things set 3 years before the anime plot (I don't want to mess with the ages), it's just that Zorzal didn't conduct his invasion until now.

Sleipnir: Here you saw the way I came up with for British taking out dragons. In the future they'll be using armor piercing shells for their artillery (they exist, but they're only used against ironclads so the army isn't normally equipped with them)

V1kingz-98: I feel that while the official name will be the Proptor Concession, the people who actually live there will create their own name for it. Something like what you've suggested.

Guest: Thank you for the additional information. Yeah I forgot to add how they countered the Zulu bull horns, just slipped my mind while writing it. As for the concentration camps, I didn't add that because the review I was responding to asked about battle tactics and the concentration camps they used fall more under strategy rather than tactics. But yes, the British did use concentration camps to counter the Boer's guerrilla resistance, and yes it is a terrible stain on British military history.

Wardog1: Perhaps, we'll see.

Papon777: Very sorry for the confusion, this story isn't set 3 years prior to the anime, I just delayed Zorzal's invasion for 3 years to justify the Empire rallying such a large army in so little time.

Kyleliberty: I think they've shown here they can rule the ground, though who knows about the air.


	7. Chapter 7

The word of the battle had traveled quickly, already it had made it back to Proptor and was heading to London. It was called the Battle of Dragonscale, named by the British due it being their first encounter with dragons. The Saderans called it something different, the Battle of Protus, after a nearby village, but Dragonscale remained the popular name for British soldiers. No matter what it was called, one thing was certain, it had been a bloody affair.

Of the seven thousand infantry men the British had brought onto the battlefield, roughly six hundred died, almost entirely from the Saderan dragons. Additionally, a further eight hundred were wounded, though most were expected to make a full recovery.

The lancers had been able to avoid most casualties, due to their lesser numbers making them seem like less of a threat when compared to the infantry. Fifteen lancers were dead, twenty two wounded. Of those numbers four dead belonged to Jack's troop, including Guss.

As for the Saderans, their main force had been slaughtered during the battle. Bodies were still being counted up, but a rough estimate was around six thousand dead or otherwise incapacitated. Additionally, both of the Saderan dragons had been killed.

On paper, the battle was a resounding victory for the British, however it also revealed a great weakness that they had. British forces weren't prepared for dragons or generally any kind of force from the air, and it showed. If the Saderan commanders had decided to lead their attack with the dragon attacks, rather than a cavalry charge, then the battle may have ended in British defeat.

Ideas for how to effectively deal with dragons were being thrown around, the most prominent of which was to have artillery mounted on a modified carriage then use canister shot to ground the dragons before using armor piercing shells to kill them on the ground, but no one knew if they'd actually work. No one wanted to take the risk of trying to fight dragons again just for the sake of testing an idea.

It was this reason that an assault on Sadera itself was decided to be too costly.

General Alford instead decided to adopt a defensive strategy. While a British diplomat was sent to negotiate, Proptor was being fortified against potential attacks. Reinforcements were being brought in to replace British losses, and the port was being built up to modern standards. If negotiations failed to go through, the Empire would have a very difficult time at retaking Proptor.

While all of this was happening, Jack and his troop were given orders to continue their previous task of scouting out as much as they could of Falmart. Local maps were a good place to start, but often times they weren't the most accurate, thus Jack's troop had to verify their validity.

But before they could set out, Jack had something to do.

Carrying a shovel in one hand and a cloth wrapped body over his shoulder, he went to a spot outside the walls of Proptor. As far as Jack was aware, Guss didn't have any close family, or at least he'd never talked about them. Falmart was as good of a place as any other, at least it was beautiful.

Bryant came with him, carrying his own shovel, and helped him pick out the spot. Both men started digging in silence. When the grave was finished, Jack carefully set the body into it.

"Do you know any words?" Bryant quietly asked.

Jack shook his head.

"Maybe we could get one of the missionaries to-"

"No." Jack took a shaky breath. "He was our friend, we bury him ourselves."

Bryant nodded and looked into the grave. "Guss… I've known you for years, and while you've been a bloody pain sometimes..." He smiled sadly. "I'll miss you."

Jack looked at the body, trying to sort through his jumble of emotions. "I met you as your superior, but it sure as hell didn't seem like that…" He took another shaky breath. "From India, to Zululand, to this place… You've always been there to make light of a bad situation. Goodbye, friend."

Byrant sighed and began to shovel dirt into the grave, Jack soon followed suit. When the grave had been filled, Jack left his shovel in the dirt to mark the grave. Both of them were silent as they reflected on the moment.

"He died with honor," Bryant suddenly said. "He died for the Queen, a true hero."

Jack shook his head with a sigh. "No, he just died."

* * *

Molt sat on his throne, thinking through the events that had happened in the past few days. None of it was good.

Proptor was lost, that much was certain. The force Emperor Molt had sent to retake it were humiliated in battle and was almost entirely obliterated. Those who had survived had chosen to desert rather than face Molt's wrath, joining bandit gangs and robbing travelers. Nothing had gone to plan.

The Empire's weakness was now exposed for all other nations to see. While the ten thousand men sent to deal with the otherworlders were by no means anything close to what the Empire could muster in full, they didn't have enough men to both guard their borders and crush the otherworlders at the same time.

If the Empire was going to survive, they'd have to conquer their weak neighbors in order to reassert their authority, while at the same time ensuring peace with their strong neighbors. Like it or not, the otherworlders were now one of their strong neighbors.

Fortunately, the otherworlders seemed to wish for peace as well, they'd sent a diplomat to the Capital in order to negotiate for a treaty. Lord Webster Burke, the British diplomat, seemed to be at least mostly agreeable and with any luck they'd work out a deal that wouldn't humiliate the Empire. Perhaps they could even become allies.

The senate of course was divided as ever. In the wake of their defeat to the otherworlders, two factions had formed: the pro-peace side who wished to negotiate an end to the war, and the pro-war side who wished to raise more men to crush the invaders. Both sides were too idealistic in their nature.

The pro-peace side believed that the otherworlders only invaded the Empire because the Empire had struck first; they thought that if the Empire ceased all aggression, the otherworlders would simply pack up and leave. Molt had nearly laughed when he heard them make their case; no nation simply agreed to sign a truce during a war they were winning. They would want something from the Empire, be it land or money.

On the other hand, the pro-war side believed that the Empire's military simply needed more men to crush the otherworlders. They were conveniently ignoring the fact that most reports stated the only casualties inflicted on the otherworlders were as a result of the Wyvern Corps. Dragons were hard to train and any losses to the Wyvern Corps would take years to replace, so their idea of raising more men was pointless for the foreseeable future.

Fortunately, the senate was easily manipulated and Molt would most likely be able to sway support in a way he saw fit when the time came.

Molt suddenly looked towards Marcus. "How many soldiers do we have in the Capital?"

The man shifted as he spoke, "At the moment, only three hundred professional soldiers. However, if necessary, a milita can be raised numbering into the the tens of thousands.

Molt nodded. It was suitable for defending the city, but not enough for any offensive actions. "Zorzal is still raising men for his expedition against the Warrior Bunnies, correct?"

"Yes, your imperial majesty. He's gathering reserve forces from the countryside and plans to have at least twelve thousand men for the invasion."

"Good, give him additional funding for the task." Making peace with the otherworlders would make the Empire look even weaker, but conquering a species such as the Warrior Bunnies would prove they were still a force to be reckoned with.

"Of course." Marcus said with a bow. "Is there anything else, your imperial majesty?"

Molt thought for a moment before asking, "Pina and her order of knights, where are they?" While his daughter's Rose Order had long been nothing more than an honor guard, with the Empire's forces stretched thin, they may be needed in the coming weeks.

"The Princess took her order to fight deserters and bandits in the south, your imperial majesty."

Molt nodded. If Pina's order was dealing with bandits then it meant the professional army wouldn't have to, freeing up more men. "That's all then, I'll start negotiations with the otherworlder diplomat tomorrow. See to it that he is treated well."

"Yes, your imperial majesty." Marcus left to carry out the Emperor's orders.

* * *

Captain Harrington's efforts at gaining General Alford's support had been failing. The general was always "busy" or "dealing with urgent matters" whenever Harrington had tried to invite him for a meal. It was almost as if the general was purposefully avoiding him, though he hadn't a clue why he'd do that.

Time was running out for Harrington. Just a few days prior, more warships had arrived in Falmart, and although Harrington still technically had command over the naval forces in the region, that wouldn't last long. If something big didn't change, the navy would bring in an admiral to take command from him.

That couldn't happen.

Harrington brought out a map of Falmart and laid it across his desk. It wasn't as detailed as he'd like, but it would have to do for the time being. He didn't have time to wait for better maps to be found and translated.

Tracing his hand over the map, he found Proptor's location. Proptor was located at the northernmost point of the Blue Sea and served as the Empire's main port in the south. While the Empire controlled a large amount of land on Falmart, there were still several independent kingdoms that could be exploited.

The kingdom that particularly interested him was known as Elbe. Though technically a vassal state of the Empire, from what he'd heard they were allowed to manage their foreign affairs semi autonomously. What mainly interested him about the kingdom was their control over the Glass Peninsula, which contained another major port, Bilek. Another ideal place to establish trade.

If Harrington was able to secure another major port for trade with Britain, his chances at keeping his command over naval forces in Falmart would significantly increase. At the same time, it was also risky; if Harrington's mission instead caused another kingdom to be hostile with Britain, then he'd almost certainly be removed from his command.

Ultimately, Harrington decided the risk was worth the reward. He was going to be removed from command anyways, he might as well take the only chance he had at keeping it. There was little chance of him becoming famous if he was simply tossed aside and replaced by some admiral; he couldn't let that happen.

Leaving the map in his cabin, Harrington exited the room and headed for the deck. There he immediately went straight to his first mate. "Watson! We're heading on an expedition, have the ship stocked with supplies!"

"An expedition, Captain?" he questioned. "Where are we going?"

"The Glass Peninsula, to our south, we'll be working to establish trade there."

"Do we have orders to do this?"

Harrington expression turned dark. "The only orders we have are the ones that I give; I am in command here, no one else."

"Right, Captain, it's just that-"

"Do not question my orders," he hissed out.

Watson looked surprised at the change in tone. "Of course, Captain. Are we bringing any other ships with us?"

Harrington shook his head. "I'll not have any other captains stealing my glory."

Watson sighed as Harrington pushed past him.

* * *

Jack's troop rode through the countryside, trying to correctly map out the area. They were following a local map to a village known as Sevso in order to add it to their own maps which were much more accurate. As a side effect, they also got to explore the continent more.

For some reason, Falmart almost seemed to be less beautiful than it had been when they'd last scouted the area. The sun still shined like always, if a bit cloudier than usual, but the colors looked less pronounced, like they were muted in some way.

It didn't help that they no longer had open ground to ride over. The wide open plains that were perfect for their horses had started to give way to large forests with only small patches of open ground and the roads in between them. Because of this, the cavalrymen had been forced to use the roads; riding through thick forests was dangerous, and Jack didn't want to take any unnecessary risks.

"How big do you think this 'Sevso' is?" Bryant wondered as they kept riding.

Jack yawned. "Couple hundred people, maybe larger."

"So what do we do if there's more than just a couple hundred people in the village?" Bryant asked.

Jack cocked his head. "What do you mean?"

Bryant scratched his face as he spoke, "You saw all those Saderans running from the battlefield, aye?"

Jack slowly nodded, still not understanding what he was getting at.

"Well, where do you think they've run off to?"

"I don't know, regrouping at Sadera?" he guessed.

Bryant shook his head. "You saw how they were running, do you really think they're going to run back to the army after what they experienced?"

"I suppose not." Bryant had a point, no one would willingly fight after that kind of slaughter. "So they've gone back to their homes then?"

"Maybe a decent chunk of them, but just think about it. You're a deserter, you're supposed to be executed for your crimes, you need money, and you have a sword. What do you think they did?"

"You think they've become bandits?"

Bryant nodded. "I'm certain of it, and you know what bandits love? Remote places that they can use as their hideout while also exploiting the people there."

"Just like Sevso…" While he doubted bandits would pose any serious threats to them, Jack didn't want to get caught up in any fighting.

"So let me just ask once more, what are our orders if they happen to be hiding out in Sevso?"

Jack sighed, they were here to scout, not fight bandits. "If they come after us, shoot back, but don't pick any fights."

"Understood, sir."

They kept riding, following the road to Sevso. Just as Jack was about to settle down and relax for the remainder of the journey, he thought he heard something in the distance. It sounded like a dragon screech, but it was too distant for Jack to be sure. He decided it was just his imagination.

Settling down in his saddle, Jack allowed his horse to trot along. For the past few days, he'd had little chance to actually relax, there was just too much to do after the battle. Now in the wilderness, he had the chance to actually reflect on what had happened. Hundreds dead, a massive slaughter, his friend's d-

He heard the noise again.

It was louder this time, but still distant. He was now very certain it was a dragon, but none of his men seemed to have heard it. Once again, he decided it was just his imaginat-

There it was again.

This time his men heard it too, but only because it was much louder than the last one. Everyone looked towards the sky, trying to spot the tell tale shadow of a dragon. Several men had to calm their breathing as they looked on in fearful anticipation.

For just a split second, Jack almost believed that they hadn't truly heard a dragon. Instead they'd heard some sort of strange bird, or the mating call of a foreign creature.

That split second passed.

Bursting from the clouds, the dragon flew overhead at an incredible speed. It looked similar to the ones from the battle, but there wasn't a rider on top of it. Although it wasn't going after them, Jack didn't want to take any chances.

"Into the forest! It can't see us under the trees!"

Jack's men immediately followed his orders and began to gallop off of the road. They entered the thick forest at high speeds, something extremely dangerous, but also necessary for the situation. Maneuvering around trees, they continued to ride into the forest.

Taking a moment to glance overhead, Jack couldn't spot the dragon through the tree cover. Hopefully that meant the dragon also couldn't spot them. Suddenly Jack's horse reared back as they nearly hit a tree.

He hadn't been looking forward, and he paid the price for it. Immediately, Jack was thrown from the saddle. One of his feet got stuck in the stirrup, but before he could undo it another screech from the dragon caused his horse to bolt forward, dragging Jack along with it.

He could feel every little stick and rock impact his back as he got dragged along the forest floor. The immense pain finally ended when Jack's foot finally managed to get free from the stirrup.

Groaning, he pushed himself onto his feet and looked around. His horse was nowhere to be seen, having continued galloping away even after he got free. Jack also soon realized that his troop was also nowhere to be seen.

He was stranded, out in the middle of a forest he knew nothing about, with few provisions, and without a horse. There was only one thing he could say about the situation.

"Fuck…"

* * *

Chapter 7, hooray! I think I've memorized the lyrics to Rule Britannia at this point with how much I've been listening to it.

Corporal Tommy: I've been trying to figure out ways to even the playing field while also not completely reversing the odds by making something too OP. Like magic will give the Saderans an advantage, but I don't want it to completely negate the British Army at the same time, I think I managed to get a mid point with the dragons here.

hellisonfire345: I've got plans for the Warrior Bunnies, but they'll be later. The idea of a Royal Flying Corp with Wyverns seems to be pretty popular, I'll think about adding it in.

Feerzo 14: Britannia rules the land and sea indeed, we'll see about the air.

V1kingz-98: F

Sleipnir: Just south of Sadera, if you look at some of the maps it's pretty close to it.

Also for British Infantry Equipment: The standard British rifle at this time is the breach loading Martini-Henry Rifle. British soldiers carry the Martini-Henry in addition to a bayonet and ammunition for it (around 80 rounds). Their uniform consists of a pith helmet (either white or khaki) and a red tunic (though khaki was adopted shortly after) and black trousers. Additionally they carry a haversack (small bag) which has a day's rations. They also carry a wooden canteen for water. On their backs they had a pack with a mess tin (containing hygiene and eating utensils). Finally they have a wool blanket attached to the pack to act as either a bedroll or for cold nights.

Perseus 12: Good ideas.

Lex: I'm debating between having tea or opium be the main thing spread to Saderan society, maybe it'll be both.

Kirov of the USSR: Unfortunately the Maxim Gun was invented five years after this story takes place, so we'll have to settle for Gatling Guns.

haseyem: Using the armor piercing rounds to attempt to shoot dragons out of the sky obviously wont work, but using canister shells to damage their wings and force them to land would be far more effective. It would be like shooting a duck out of the sky with a shotgun, the spray takes care of the lack of accuracy. Then once grounded, since most British weapons can't actually pierce their scales and thus kill them, the armor piercing rounds can be used to kill them. Also if the British do get dragons I think I'll settle on the Royal Flying Corps as the name (the same one used for the first British air force in WW1).

Xboxgorgo18: Yep, no British planes, but maybe some dragons who knows.

Papon777: For Queen and Country!

Bronze Shield: Definitely, you don't want to be caught without air support twice.


	8. Chapter 8

The situation as not as bad as Jack had initially thought.

Though his horse had galloped away with his carbine and lance, he still had his revolver and sabre; hopefully he wouldn't have to use either of them. Most importantly though, Jack still had his map of the area and a working compass, at least he hoped it was working. Even though he didn't exactly know where he was, he'd still be able to guess the correct way to go.

Jack sat down on a fallen log as he contemplated what to do. He knew that he had to get moving, his men would never find him in this forest, and he didn't want to try and signal them for fear of attracting the attention of the dragon they'd fled from. The only thing was that Jack wasn't certain on where to go. He had a few options before him.

The first, and most obvious, was to head south until he reached the ocean then attempt to reach Proptor by following the coast. While simple, it was also incredibly risky and had a lot of potential for failure. Trekking through miles of foreign terrain, on foot, and without enough provisions to last him more than a day was a terrible idea.

Another option was to try and track down his men before heading on horseback to Proptor. That also had troublesome prospects because he'd completely lost his bearings when he was dragged along the ground by his horse. Jack had a compass, but that wouldn't help when he didn't know what direction they'd run to or from in the first place. Trying to find his troop would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack.

Jack's final option was to try his luck and head to Sevso. The village was far closer than Proptor was and he wouldn't have to travel through as much foreign territory. Additionally, there was also a good chance that Jack's men also had the same idea and decided to go to Sevso; it was a tempting prospect. The main problem with heading to Sevso was that, as Bryant had previously suggested, there might be bandits hiding out there. Still, it was either try his luck in the wilderness, or head to the closest bastion of civilization despite it being potentially hostile.

Jack chose the second option.

Adjusting his pith helmet, Jack began to walk in the direction he believed Sevso was located. Just because it was the closest place with people in it, didn't mean it would be a quick journey. On the brightside, he now had plenty of time to think.

Of all the things that concerned him at that moment, the dragon they'd seen was probably the worst of them. The Battle of Dragonscale had show just how deadly they were, and Jack didn't exactly have thousands of infantrymen to help kill the beast if it decided to go after him.

_Damned dragons and their Saderan masters._

That was another thing that concerned Jack, both of the dragons at the battle had been ridden by soldiers. They'd followed the commands of their riders and had been very effective in doing so. The dragon they'd just seen, however, carried no rider on its back.

Jack supposed that it was only logical there were wild dragons. After all, there were wild pigs and horses, why wouldn't there be a wild dragon as well? But that just brought further questions along with it.

If dragons were wild by nature, how did the Saderans tame them? Were they trained from birth or tamed as adults? Did the Saderans treat them kindly or did they have to force them into submission? Lots of questions, not a lot of answers.

It wasn't likely Jack would get his answers for a while. Despite the hopeful negotiations taking place between the Empire and Britain, he doubted the techniques of Saderan dragon riding would be spilled easily. It was just like how the recipe for gunpowder was currently a carefully guarded secret in Falmart. Neither side wanted to reveal their greatest weapon to the enemy.

There were other things about Falmart that got Jack curious, magic was one of them. He'd never seen it, of course, but rumors spread easily. Some of the citizens in Proptor had offhandedly mentioned it, catching the attention of the British. Very quickly, a search had been set out to find anyone capable of practicing magic in Proptor, but nothing turned up. All the mages seemed to have fled during the bombardment.

Quite convenient in Jack's opinion.

As much as he wanted to believe in magic, so far he'd seen no actual evidence of it. Sure, there were all sorts of strange human-animal hybrids living in Proptor, but that wasn't a sign of magic, they were just new species.

It was the same way everywhere he'd been. People always claimed to have seen supernatural things, but everytime they were nothing more than frauds or overreactions. Jack could see no reason why the same wouldn't be true here; if anything it would be more prominent due to all of the different fantastical creatures existing in Falmart.

Still, he had thought the same thing about werewolves and dragons just a few weeks ago. The very appearance of the gate also did suggest some sort of supernatural occurrence; maybe Jack was wrong about his beliefs.

_It's a shame Guss isn't here to experience Falmart more… _His former lieutenant had always been a dreamer, but then again, his predictions about Falmart weren't completely wrong. Maybe he'd been onto something.

Jack sighed, thinking about Guss wasn't going to do him any good now. The man was dead and that was that; nothing could be done for him. There was no vengeance to be sought out, no great evil responsible for his death, just the horrors of a battle gone wrong.

He suddenly was brought out of his thoughts.

In front of him was an egg. Not a normal egg, laid by a chicken and fit for breakfast, it was massive, larger than Jack's entire head, and certainly not similar to anything on Earth.

The place he found it certainly was not any type of nest; it was leaned up against a tree, out in the open for hungry predators. Jack was lucky to have found it before a pack of wolves did, or whatever the Saderan equivalents were.

Jack knew he had to keep moving, but he almost didn't want to leave behind the egg. Some sort of feeling, be it intuition or madness, urged him to take it with him. He knew the egg would be a hassle to carry, but Jack couldn't help but take it.

Tucking the egg under one arm, Jack continued walking to his destination.

* * *

Molt watched the British diplomat, observant of every little move that he made. Lord Burke had been nice enough when he arrived the previous day, but they'd only discussed pleasantries, now they were going to talk about a much more serious matter. Fortunately the man spoke Saderan well enough that Molt could understand him, despite the thick accent.

The detachment of soldiers Lord Burke had arrived with wouldn't be able to protect him if he did something idiotic, but Molt couldn't imagine it would help the peace process. Sadera needed this peace treaty, its very survival relied on it. Both men would have to act carefully.

"If I am correct, you have a treaty prepared already? What are the terms?" Molt needed to gauge what the British wanted before he made offers.

Lord Burke nodded and pulled a rolled up piece of paper from his belt. "Yes, this right here. We ask that you cede the entire city of Proptor, give tariff free trade to British merchants at all ports, and allow us to establish an embassy in Sadera."

Molt nodded; they were harsh terms, but a good negotiator never actually proposed what they wanted in the first deal, he was simplying trying to test Molt's limits. "I believe there must be some sort of mistake, Lord Lyco stated you wished a legation in Proptor, not annexation. He also relayed that your terms were set tariffs, not tariff free trade."

"Mhmm…" Lord Burke scratched his chin as he spoke, "Unfortunately that treaty, which Lord Lyco himself signed, became null and void when you marched an army against us."

The British still believed their initial treaty had been valid, even if it only received the signature of a traitor. Molt pretended like he agreed with the lord, "Indeed, that is so, but is it so much of a stretch to reinstate the treaty? I believe I heard once that respect is gained on the battlefield, would you not say our nations can now respect each other?"

Lord Burke shook his head as if he was remorseful about the situation, but Molt knew better than to believe that. "Unfortunately those terms were agreed upon when we had little idea of who we were dealing with; now that we have more information the terms must be revised."

"And what information have you gained, Lord Burke?"

"We have learned many things, your majesty," Molt took note that he didn't address him properly. "We learned of the expanse of your empire, the great wealth it posses, and the majestic beasts that roam its land." Lord Burke's tone suddenly shifted, "But we have also learned of the superiority of our military, the corruption in your government, and the many neighboring states with ambitious rulers that have no love for your empire."

Molt internally frowned; it was a threat, clear and plain. "It appears your sources are wrong then, Lord Burke."

"Oh? How so?"

"The army we sent to reclaim Proptor was merely a hundredth of the Empire's total might, the corrupt ministers in our government are being rooted out, and the majority of our neighbors happen to be vassals of the Empire." Molt technically was telling the truth, but it was dodging the fact that their army couldn't protect their massive borders and that their vassal states were just as eager to betray the Empire as the independent kingdoms.

"Be that as it may, you are not in an ideal position, and our treaty has fair terms." Molt had to admire the man's ability, he wasn't taking any of the usual bait that the senate fell for.

"You insult me, my lord. Your terms may be fit for a lesser nation, but this is the Saderan Empire, they are not acceptable."

Lord Burke tilted his head. "And what terms would be acceptable?" Finally they were getting somewhere.

Molt pretended like he was thinking up an answer, in truth he'd already had one prepared as soon as he'd heard the initial demands. "We can agree to an embassy, in time we hope to establish one on your side of the gate. Tariff free trade is unacceptable, I believe a set tariff of twenty percent and access to five set ports will be acceptable. Additionally, as a gesture of our goodwill, we will allow you to maintain a small contingent of soldiers in Proptor to protect your merchants." Like Lord Burke, this wasn't truly as low as he was willing to go, but he was testing the man's stubbornness.

Lord Burke shook his head immediately. "No, no, that will not do. Twenty percent is too much, and we require that we keep at least some land holdings on Falmart."

"Fine, twenty percent is too much, we can reduce it to ten percent, and because you have been respectful, I will grant your merchants access to all Imperial ports." Molt proposed his counter offer.

"And Proptor?" came the immediate response.

"We cannot surrender Imperial territory to you, I'm sure you understand," Molt replied.

Lord Burke rubbed his chin, pretending to think. "Proptor is a damaged city, do you really wish to fund such repairs to it? I'm afraid we must insist on the territory."

Molt suppressed a swear; the British were very insistent on taking Imperial territory, but doing so would make the Empire look weak. "Five percent tariffs, permission for your merchants to trade in all ports, and the guarantee that British merchants will be protected under British law, not Saderan. We can also provide six thousand Suwani for your troubles." It was as low as Molt was willing to go, he hoped it would be enough.

The lord once more pretended to think before replying, "I apologize, your majesty, but I believe until further negotiations continue, I will have to further familiar myself with your currency. We can continue negotiations tomorrow if that is alright?"

Molt knew the man really just wanted to figure out another approach in the negotiations, but the same could be said for Molt. "Very well, we can meet in the morning."

Lord Burke smiled. "I'll be sure to bring a gift as an appreciation for your hospitality."

* * *

When Jack spotted Sevso through the dense forest, he was overwhelmed by relief. Traveling through the forest, while in a way calming, was also laden with uncertainty. He wasn't even sure he was going to find Sevso until he'd spotted the smoke from a chimney.

Carefully he hid the egg he had carried under a bush and marked it down on his map. Whatever the things was, he didn't want some villagers trying to cook breakfast with it.

Jack tidied up his tunic before walking to the village, a British officer ought to look presentable when meeting with locals. Almost instantly, he noticed something was off about the place. No one was working outside; in fact, he couldn't even spot a soul. Jack got the feeling someone was watching him.

He rested his hand on the sabre at his side as he moved further into the village. Someone was here, he knew that much, but the only question was why they were hiding. It was too late to head back now, if his was being watched, he wouldn't get very far.

Just as he thought his watchers wouldn't show themselves, a rather large man wearing Saderan armor stepped onto the street. "Who are you, strange man?"

He was clearly a deserter, no soldier would wait to ambush someone in a village. Jack raised his hands to show he was friendly. "Just a traveler, far from home, I'm hoping to purchase a horse or mule to assist in my journey."

"Where is your home, strange man?" Jack didn't know if it was his uniform or accent that gave him away, but he clearly couldn't pass as Saderan.

"It's very far away, sir," he replied, trying to dodge the question.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack noticed several other men waiting in houses, ready to ambush him. "Well, sir. It's called 'Birmingham' I'm certain you haven't heard of it." As discreetly as he could, Jack undid the flap on his pistol holster.

"Birmingham?" The man's face scrunched up. "How far away is-"

Jack's pistol let out a sudden crack and the large man fell to the ground, a bullet wound in his chest.

Yelling out battle cries, ten deserters charged from the buildings to either side of him; for bandits, they sure knew how to set an ambush well. Jack quickly backed away while holding up his revolver.

One of the deserters, carrying a massive axe, tried to swing it into Jack's head. He immediately fired two rounds from his revolver, ending the attack before it could fully materialize.

Another one ran at him with a sword. Jack replied with two more shots into the chest.

With his final bullet, he put a hole through the head of the largest remaining deserter; Jack didn't want to fight anyone too strong.

Having just watched four of their comrades drop dead to Jack's pistol, the remaining bandits were less willing to charge him head on, giving his time to holster the revolver and draw his sabre.

"You there, skinny man!" Jack singled out one of the smaller ones, trying to turn a group combat into a duel. "You really need all your friends to take out lonely me? I don't even have armor, you coward!"

The skinny man became flustered and shoved his friends aside. He yelled out a battle cry before rushing at Jack with a spear.

While Jack was a good shot with his pistol, he was an even better swordsman. Acting on pure instinct, he parried the spear aside and lunged forward, thrusting his sabre into the man's throat.

Drawing back, he readied himself for another attack. "Come on then! The small one wasn't enough, but surely you're better than that runt!" He pointed his sword to a slightly bigger deserter.

The bandits were either over confident in their abilities, or just plain stupid, because they didn't take the opportunity to rush him all at once. Jack had no doubts he'd be dead if that happened.

Oddly enough, Jack could hear horses in the distance. His opponent heard too and became distracted, Jack used that to his advantage.

Taking the initiative, Jack made a quick swing at his opponent's head; people always got fearful when something started coming for their head. Unfortunately, the man wasn't as easily spooked as Jack had hoped and was able to parry Jack's sabre with his sword.

The bandit swung at Jack, trying to catch him off guard.

A quick parry stopped the attack. Jack retaliated with his own swing.

Another parry halted Jack's strike, but it was less coordinated and sloppy. He couldn't keep up.

In the distance, Jack could see horses approaching them. His troops must have found him. He just needed to buy time.

Not allowing his opponent to swing, Jack went on the offensive with his sabre. He struck low, then high, then low again, until one of his swings managed to slip through the bandit's defenses and hit him across the chest.

Armor stopped it from being a killing blow, but the strike managed to wind Jack's opponent. The deserter didn't manage to react as a second swing lodged into his collar bone.

Just as he finished off the bandit, the horses arrived in the village.

They rode through, charging down the remaining bandits with sword and lance. Jack took cover behind a house to avoid being mistaken as an enemy.

There was little resistance from the bandits as the cavalry charged them down. Peaking out to make sure it was over, Jack suddenly ducked back behind the house.

Those weren't his men. They weren't even men at all.

* * *

Chapter 8! Next chapter will be interesting to write, that's all I'll say.

hellisonfire345: Perhaps.

Sleipnir: British infantry are certainly more qualified in melee combat that say a modern soldier, however the Saderans still have a slight advantage. While British bayonet drill is highly effective and managed to hold off the Zulu on several occasions, the main advantage the Saderans have is armor (which bayonets have trouble with dealing with) as such they'd have to aim for unprotected parts of the body, giving the Saderans a slight advantage in melee. And the main characters I'm working on ideas for implementing them, since this is so different from the regular plot line I've got a lot of things to think of.

Corporal Tommy: I think you mean Britons never shall be slaves, _unless you're a Saderan sympathizer._

Perseus 12: Interesting ideas/theories.

Feerzo 14: I've been hinting at warrior bunnies, but I'm not 100% sure when exactly they'll be added. Now the Fire Dragon is something entirely out of anyone here's league, but Lelei's magic did manage to hurt it, just keep that in mind.

Cubo: Interesting theory.

Kyleliberty: Neither actually. The British at this time use a breach loading rifle known as the Martini-Henry Rifle. If you want to understand what exactly that entails, the Forgotten Weapons channel on Youtube has a good video of them showcasing the Martini-Henry carbine (which is essentially just the rifle but more compact).

UN Peacekeeper: Rule Britannia!

random69: I update whenever I have time to write. Recently I've had a lot of time, but that will probably change.

Kirov of the USSR: That would be one monster of a weapon.

Papon777: Not Koan forest yet, but that'll come eventually. Also I think I'll stay silent on ideas for how the Flame Dragon could be potentially dealt with.

last admiral: Negotiations are ongoing, we'll see about Rory.


	9. Chapter 9

Jack fumbled with his revolver, trying to load new bullets into it. While not as scary as a dragon, his new enemy certainly was threatening. He doubted that, if push came to shove, he'd be able to take down all of them at once.

Thirty women on horseback, all dressed in armor and carrying swords, had just ridden down the bandits who'd inhabited Sevso. Jack had been fairly confident he could win against the bandits, but against this new threat, he had no chance. He tried to control his panic and continued loading bullets into his gun.

Unlike the bandits who he previously faced, these women were clearly not some shoddy band of deserters. Wearing full plate armor, with the exception of helmets for some strange reason, they'd be essentially invulnerable against Jack's sabre. He wasn't even sure if his pistol would do the trick. Additionally, they carried both swords and lances; his own use with the weapons had taught him just how effective they were on horseback.

Armed with only a pistol and sabre, Jack didn't fancy his chances against them. Even if he was able to use the pistol to its greatest effect, something that most likely would never happen, he'd still only take down six of the thirty women. He couldn't fight, he'd have to run or hide.

Having finished reloading his revolver, Jack tried to sneak away from the armored women. He walked as silently as possible and tried to find a better hiding spot. The house he was currently hiding behind was a good option, Jack slowly pushed open the doorwa-

"You, behind the house!" Jack froze at the voice. "Come out and we will give you a quick death; far better than deserters like you deserve!"

Swearing under his breath, Jack made sure his weapons were sheathed before walking into the open with his hands up. He could now see the person who'd spoken, a red haired woman with significantly less armor than the others.

Jack disguised his fear with a wide smile and the most confident voice he could muster replied, "Thank you for the assistance! I feared I was done for when those bandits attacked me."

Another woman, this one with blonde hair on foot, walked up to him and put a sword near his throat. Jack did his best to continue his act of confidence, despite the clear threat at his neck.

"Who are you?" The red haired woman asked. Jack hesitated, prompting the blonde one to bring her sword closer to his throat. "Speak or I'll have Bozes cut off your head."

Jack knew he wouldn't be able to avoid the truth, his experience with the bandits made that clear, so he decided being upfront would work best. "Captain Jack Campbell, 17th Regiment of Lancers, in service to Her Majesty the Queen."

"Which Queen?"

"Queen Victoria of the United Kingdom." He could tell they were confused, not that he blamed them; none of them had ever heard of what he was talking about. "From beyond the gate," he explained.

The armored women all immediately tensed up, they were technically his enemies after all. Some of the women who hadn't been paying attention to his situation now rode near to him, swords drawn. If Jack didn't do something, he'd probably be facing an execution.

"As an officer, I would like to surrender my arms and ask you bring me to Sadera, where British diplomats are currently negotiating with your emperor, so I may speak with them." Jack was in no position to be making requests, but often times soldiers didn't know that and would simply comply out of habit.

The blonde haired woman, who he now knew was named Bozes, and the red haired woman exchanged a glance. For a second Jack thought they were going to do as he asked. The thought was promptly eliminated when Bozes slapped him across the face.

"Do not presume you can order the princess around like a servant!"

Jack quickly realized his mistake. "I apologize, your highness. I had no idea I was in the presence of royalty, but I still ask th-"

He was slapped again. Jack decided it was in his best interest to stay silent for the time being.

"Take any weapons he has and restrain him. We'll finish our task here, then bring him before my father," the princess commanded.

Bozes promptly seized Jack's sword from his belt. She began to pat him down for weapons, finding his utility knife. However, when she got to his revolver, she hesitated for a moment and scrunched her face, probably trying to determine if it was indeed a weapon.

Jack decided to determine it for her, "I would appreciate if you didn't touch that; it's a religious item."

The armored woman still looked confused. "What kind of religious item is that? I've never seen one like it."

"It's the sign of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ," Jack replied, pretending to be offended. "The Holy Pistol of God."

Bozes still didn't look completely convinced.

"I would assume our religions are vastly different," he added.

The princess sighed and nodded at Bozes. She gave in and allowed him to keep the pistol on him, much to Jack's relief. Bozes did however bind his hands together with rope and put him on the back of her horse.

It seemed that Jack had just jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire.

* * *

"Ships off the starboard side, Captain!"

Captain Harrington snapped his head in the direction the lookout had called out. They'd been at sea for a few days, but so far nothing of note had been spotted, this could be a sign they were approaching their destination.

Using his spyglass, Harrington could spot several ships built in the local style. Hopefully they belonged to the Kingdom of Elbe.

Unlike the Saderan Empire, Harrington would be able to negotiate with Elbe much easier. Neither side had attacked one another, and despite being a vassal state, Elbe still controlled many foreign affairs. That included trade.

Harrington had ordered the _Lerwick_ to be loaded with several things for trading: coffee, tea, and several manufactured goods that would be sure to amaze the locals. He'd tried to get his hands on a crate of opium, but the damned dockmaster hadn't allowed it; apparently they needed it for other dealings. If everything went well, he could end up being the man responsible for opening another nation to British trade.

"Bring us up beside them; I want to meet with their captain!" he commanded to the helmsman. Trying to negotiate with the Saderan fleet hadn't gone well, hopefully this would turn out better.

The _Lerwick _was brought close to the lead ship, and Harrington readjusted his uniform; an officer ought to look tidy when presenting themselves. Watson and the ship's translator stepped up to the starboard side along with him.

"Ahoy! We've come from Proptor, I'd like to speak with your captain!" Harrington greeted. The man beside him quickly translated it into Latin.

"Come aboard, we have some questions for you!" came the response from their captain.

Harrington nodded to his crew, who promptly threw ropes to the other ship. Together the two crews closed the gap between them and quickly set up a gangplank to walk across. With his two companions, Harrington stepped onto the foreign ship.

The captain of their ship, a man with slightly greying hair, stepped forward to greet them. "I'm Captain Horak, and this is my ship, the _Pospisil_. Who would you happen to be?"

"Captain Harrington of the _HMS Lerwick._ It's good to meet you."

"Mhmm…" Captain Horak looked over the _Lerwick_ with curious eyes. "I've never seen a ship like that, you're from Proptor right? Is it some kind of new Saderan ship?"

Harrington exchanged a glance with Watson before responding, "Aye, we're from Proptor, but we aren't Saderans."

Horak didn't look surprised. "I figured. Where are you from then?"

"We're from Great Britain, a nation that lies beyond the gate." Harrington idly rested his hand on the cutlass at his belt. He didn't know exactly how they'd react.

Captain Horak looked towards the deck with an unreadable expression. "So the rumors are true then…"

"What rumors?" Watson asked.

"Proptor was invaded; the Empire lost their largest port while barely putting up any resistance."

Harrington nodded. "Aye, it's true. I was the one that took it."

There was a sharp inhale from Horak before he abruptly looked up at Harrington. "What is it you want from us? Come to take Bilek too?" The rasp of swords being drawn from their scabbards sounded out around them.

"On the contrary, we're just here to trade," Harrington reassured him. It was the truth, all they wanted to do was start trade, but it obviously didn't come across that way.

Horak looked him up and down. "That so? Then you wouldn't mind us escorting you, correct? If you're just here to trade, then you've nothing to fear."

Harrington put on his best smile. "I'd be glad to accept your generous offer."

* * *

Emperor Molt settled into his throne, preparing for Lord Burke to arrive. The Empire was going to be decided in the next few hours and Molt needed to be prepared. If he failed here, everything he'd ever worked for was finished.

The night had been sleepless for Molt. He had a new approach to negotiations now that he'd thought over the situation. Instead of trying to appease the British, he'd instead try to appease Lord Burke. While the man didn't seem particularly selfish or greedy, all men had their limits.

Molt was prepared to offer the lord a great deal of things: titles, wealth, power, and even a marriage with his daughter. Lord Burke would have to be stupid to refuse such things. Hopefully this would convince the man to be more lenient with the treaty's terms.

Of course, Molt wasn't so stupid as to rely purely of being able to bribe a man for the Empire's survival. His secondary plan was to offer the British land belonging to Imperial Vassals. This would both appease the British, while at the same time maintaining Sadera's integrity and weakening potential rebellions against the Empire.

It was even better because if the vassal states revolted, Britain would be fighting directly against them, allowing for the Empire to secure better relations with them and possibly learn to counter their advanced magic. Of course there were downsides to this; giving up the land of Imperial Vassals would greatly reduce the tributes paid toward the Empire and most likely cause civil war, but they were necessary sacrifices.

All victories did inevitably come at a cost.

Once aggression against the British halted, Molt planned on giving Zorzal permission to invade the Warrior Bunnies. Doing so would allow for the Empire to reassert its dominance over Falmart, crushing insurrections before they could start, and provide a large source of slaves, reinvigorating the Imperial economy.

Warrior Bunnies were highly sought after as slaves and wouldn't be able to put up a fight, making them the ideal choice for conquest. Normally he wouldn't allow his son to command anything, but he'd been planning this invasion for a long time and was adamant about leading it. Molt ultimately decided that there wasn't any conceivable way Zorzal could mess up the invasion so he allowed him to take command.

His son was arrogant and narcissistic, but even he couldn't lose when outnumbering his opponent ten to one. Except against the British of course. The sound of footsteps approaching brought Molt out of his thoughts; Lord Burke had arrived.

The man brought with him two aides, one carrying a strange box, and the other holding some sort of glass object. Lord Burke stepped forward smiling as if they were good friends.

"Have you familiarized yourself with Imperial currency, my lord?" That had been the man's excuse for temporarily breaking off negotiations, in reality, they both just wanted to have more time to think.

Lord Burke bowed in front of him. "Indeed I have, your majesty, and as promised I brought a gift." He gestured for his aides to approach.

"How thoughtful of you…" Molt mused quietly.

Bowing before him, the two aides presented their items. The first one brought forward a lamp which looked rather strange, but otherwise seemed to just be a lamp. Opening the box in his hands, the second aide presented Molt with a silver pipe, not unlike the ones used in the poorer areas of Sadera.

Molt raised his eyebrow at the display. "You brought me pipeweed?" he asked in near disbelief. One couldn't expect the Emperor to smoke something so lowly.

Lord Burke simply smiled and shook his head. "While it may resemble this 'pipeweed' you speak of, I can assure you this is nothing like what you've ever experienced."

"What is it then?" Though Molt was mildly curious, he really just wanted to get on with negotiations.

One of the aides lit the strange lamp while Lord Burke spoke, "It's called 'black spice' by some, others call it 'poppy-juice,' but we British just call it opium." The other aide heated the pipe over the lamp before presenting it to Molt. "I suggest you try some."

Molt could see that they wouldn't be able to get on with negotiations without him first trying this "opium" so he took the pipe into his hands. Bringing it up to his lips, he inhaled slowly before breathing out.

The effect was immediate. Molt became relaxed almost instantly, as if all of his worries and stress were simply floating away. He leaned back in his throne, allowing himself to shut his eyes. _Finally… peace…_

"I believe we were supposed to continue negotiations on the treaty," Lord Burke's voice interrupted Molt's trance. "I've taken the liberty of slightly modifying our demands to meet your standards."

Molt found it hard to pay attention to Lord Burke; all he wanted to do was simply relax into his throne without worry. He inhaled once more on the pipe, enjoying the euphoric relaxation that followed.

"The British government has the following demands: set tariffs at five percent, access to…" Molt drowned out the noise coming at him. It didn't matter to him, it didn't matter to anyone.

He closed his eyes once more, enjoying the bliss feeling of nothingness. There was something absolutely delightful about having no worry in the world. Molt inhaled another time on the pipe.

Unfortunately the noise continued, "Ports open… extraterritorial rights to... ten thousand Suwani…"

_What's he even..._

Once more Molt drowned out the talking and focused on his own bliss. He hadn't felt like this since he was a child, eating sweet rolls, and enjoying life as-

Molt snapped out of his daze and tried to listen more carefully to Lord Burke. "Previously we agreed that the port of Proptor would cede a portion of the city in order to create a British Legation. This is in order…"

_Did I agree to that…? _Molt truly couldn't remember if he'd agreed to anything concerning Proptor. He knew he spoke about it the previous day, but at the moment he couldn't remember what was decided. Choosing to simply ignore the problem for the time being, Molt inhaled once more on the pipe.

"Lastly is… Sadera… ambassador in… detachment of soldiers..." Lord Burke was speaking too fast for him to understand. Molt just let his eyes shut while the man spoke.

He tried to breath in through the pipe again, but found it didn't have the same relaxing effect. Molt sat up from his position looking around for a solution until one of the aides took the pipe away from him. He dropped something into it and hovered it over the strange lamp before handing it back to Molt.

Breathing in the relaxing feeling, Molt sat back again.

"Are we agreed on the treaty?" Lord Burke interrupted his relaxation.

"Hmm?" Molt blinked, trying to clear his mind but it remained foggy. "Get me more of this… opium."

Lord Burke smiled. "Unfortunately that can only be achieved if you sign the treaty, your majesty."

Molt hesitated for half a second, he knew he shouldn't sign but for the life of him couldn't remember why, ultimately he nodded his head yes. Lord Burke brought him a paper which Molt scribbled his name onto. The lord backed away from Molt, taking the paper with him.

"My aides will bring you more opium tomorrow, for now enjoy the amount I have gifted you."

Molt did care nor listen, all that mattered was the bliss and immense relaxation he felt just sitting there doing nothing. In all his life, nothing had come close to this feeling.

He inhaled from the pipe once more.

* * *

Chapter 9 yay! I probably did way too much research into the effects of opium than I needed for this chapter, but whatever.

hellisonfire345: Hope you're happy with the meeting so far.

Perseus12: Hail Britannia!

Sleipnir: 7,600 is the pre battle number (and the number that'll be there once reinforcements come through) but after the battle due to casualties only 6,163 able bodied men are available (though most of the losses are just wounded and will recover).

Feerzo 14: Glad you think things are getting good.

Corporal Tommy: All is forgiven, RULE BRITANNIA!

V1kingz-98: Hope this answered at least one question.

haseyem: Welp it's both.

Papon777: Yeah... best friends... And yeah he's the Jack of all trades.


	10. Chapter 10

Jack watched as the former village of Sevso gradually disappeared in the distance. They never did find out what happened to the villagers there, probably killed by the bandits who'd taken up residence there. He knew he'd eventually have to come back to the village, the strange egg was still hidden nearby.

Until that point though, he had very little control of where he was going.

The armored women, who he still knew very little about, were taking him to Sadera. He supposed they were expecting to present Jack to their emperor as a gift, but in reality all it would do was present him an opportunity to go free. With peace negotiations currently ongoing, he doubted their emperor would risk holding an officer like him captive.

Still, he had to get there first, and doing so meant riding with a group of insufferably miserable women. So far none of them had engaged in any sort of conversation with him, not even small talk. It would be a terribly boring ride to Sadera.

"There were supposed to be more of them, many more of them," the red haired princess quietly said to Bozes. Jack still didn't know the princess' actual name.

"They're deserters, they probably ran when they heard we were coming," came Bozes' smug reply.

The princess nodded. "Deserters can't stand against knights, no matter the circumstances."

Jack quietly chuckled to himself when he heard that. Deserters were still trained soldiers, it was a terrible mistake to underestimate them.

Bozes heard his laugh and turned to glare at him. "Something funny, otherworlder?"

Jack shook his head. "No, no, please continue."

She looked ready to tear off his head, but the princess stepped in, "Let him think what he wants, it won't help when his head's removed from his shoulders."

"You're rather confident about that…" Jack muttered to himself.

The princess stared at him with stern eyes. "My father will have you-"

"Your father won't have the chance to do anything to me," Jack interrupted. Normally he would try not to antagonize his captors, but in this situation it didn't matter. He might as well use it as entertainment.

"Shall I hit him, your highness?" Bozes once more was ever dutiful in her willingness to serve the princess. That or she just liked to hit Jack.

"Didn't know you were into that kind of thing, I suppose we all have our preferences," Jack mocked.

Bozes went red and tightened her grip on her horse's reins. "You insufferable dog! Do you know who I am? I should cut you down right now!"

He rolled his eyes in response. "How brave and honorable of you to cut down an unarmed prisoner."

"What do you know of honor?!" she snapped back. "You otherworlders have no concept of honor on the battlefield!"

"What do you know of the battlefield?" Jack replied, echoing her words. "Have you ever fought in a pitched battle?"

The princess was the one to respond this time, "We fought goblins in an engagement near-"

"I mean a real battle between two armies, not just some minor skirmish." Jack could tell by the looks on their faces that the answer was no. "I've fought two, one against the Zulu, and the second against your Empire. Let me tell you, there is no honor on the battlefield."

Bozes scoffed, "If you're such a skilled warrior, why are you our captive?"

"Untie me, give my my sword, and face me one on one; I'll show you just what I can do. Or are you too afraid to fight an unarmored man?" he goaded her.

The challenge to her honor was clearly too much for her to handle. She stopped her horse and cut the ropes binding Jack's hands before shoving him off of it. The princess made no move to stop them.

Landing on his feet, Jack stretched his arms which had begun to get sore after being in one position for so long. He looked a Bozes expectantly. "My sword?"

The entire group of armored women had stopped moving and were watching Bozes and him with great interest. Bozes roughly grabbed Jack's sabre off her belt and threw it towards him upon which he promptly picked it up. Once more the princess did nothing to stop them.

She was probably too caught up in the idea of an "honorable" duel to stop them.

"Are you going to dismount, or are you so honorable and noble that you can only fight men who are at a disadvantage?" Jack needed this fight to be as equal as he could possibly make it and goading Bozes seemed to be an effective way of doing it.

The blonde woman huffed and dismounted from her horse, drawing her own sword in the process. Jack rolled his neck as the two faced off against each other.

Taking the initiative, Jack made a thrust towards her chest. It was immediately parried by her own sword.

The blades clashed once more as he transitioned into a slash at her head. She was able to deflect that one as well.

Steel scrapped against steel as Jack sent three more slashes at Bozes, hoping to find an opening in her guard, only to be parried each time. He was fighting someone very good on the defensive.

Fighting against someone's strengths was never a good idea.

Backing up to create more distance, Jack brought his guard up, preparing to parry whatever Bozes would throw at him. Hopefully it would force Bozes to go on the attack.

The blonde immediately went on the offensive. She threw a swing towards Jack's head. He parried the blade to the side and shuffled back, still trying to gauge her attacks.

She continued to advance on him, sending several less than perfect slashes at Jack. Each one failed to penetrate his guard.

Jack took careful note that her offense was weaker than her defense.

Suddenly Jack parried one of her attacks and retaliated with a crosscut at her wrist. Unable to defend against it, she hissed at the blade impacted the gauntlet she was wearing.

Jack's sabre wouldn't be cutting through plate armor anytime soon, but it could hurt through the force of impact alone.

Bozes backed away, choosing to focus on her defense instead of attacking Jack. That wouldn't do at all, he needed her to be the one on the offense. She was too good otherwise.

"Looks like the brave and honorable warrior can't even land a hit on lowly me!" Jack quipped. "I bet you're just a coward who puts on armor to pretend like she's strong!"

Red faced and scowling, Bozes let out a savage yell and charged at him, just as Jack had hoped.

She threw a particularly strong, but sloppy, cut at Jacks head. He only just managed to parry it while backing up.

Her second swing was even sloppier than the first. Jack parried it aside again. He retaliated by kicking her in the chest.

Bozes fell to the ground, dropping her sword on the way down. Immediately Jack ran up to her and placed his sabre's tip at her throat. He'd beaten her.

There was a brief moment as the two glared at each other. Bozes certainly was stubborn, but Jack was the victor here. His face adopted a grin.

Just as he was going to open his mouth, battlecries sounded out from all around them. Having been too focused on the duel in front of them, the armored women had neglected to watch out for approaching threats.

Jack muttered a swear; they were being ambushed.

He could see maybe fifty bandits and deserters coming at them, armed with a mix of Saderan weaponry and tools converted to function as weapons. Jack backed away from Bozes, letting her get off the ground.

They were in a bad position, while they had the advantage of cavalry, they were also outnumbered by twenty men. It would take decent cohesion between them to drive off. There wasn't any time for honor or glory.

"Charge!" the cry came from the princess and quickly spread among the armored women.

"Wait stop!" Jack's cries fell upon deaf ears as they charged at the bandits. That was the exact opposite of what they needed to do.

While cavalry charges were effective, they needed to be well coordinated and against the right type of enemy. The bandits were surrounding them which prompted the armored women to charge all around in different directions instead of as a cohesive unit.

The initial cavalry impact was deadly against the bandits, but very quickly the armored women got bogged down in individual combat, many losing their horses. Jack swore again as the women made no attempt to work together, instead choosing to fight the bandits alone.

None of this mattered of course if Jack managed to escape. Deciding not to stick around for the women to be slaughtered, Jack made a run for Bozes' horse. The blonde didn't need it, she had already decided to charge the bandits on foot.

He was about to reach the horse when a boy charged at Jack from the side.

He wasn't a deserter, evident by the fact he was using a crooked spear and had no armor to speak of. Probably just a farm boy who'd got caught up with the bandits.

Jack parried the boy's thrust with his sabre. He then quickly made a swing at the boy's wrist. There was a cry of pain as the boy dropped his spear.

"You can run now or die!" Jack gave the boy a chance to live.

The boy chose to die. He ran at Jack, a hunting knife in hand, and was promptly skewered through the chest by Jack's sabre.

The boy didn't get a chance to scream as Jack kicked him off his sabre. He slowly choked to death on his own blood. There wasn't time to mourn, Jack needed that horse.

Avoiding any other conflict, Jack managed to make his way to Bozes' horse. He grabbed hold of the reins when out of the corner of his eye he spotted Bozes nearly lose her head.

The blonde idiot had chosen to fight four men at once and was failing badly. Even the best swordsmen couldn't do that. She was going to die.

Jack hesitated for a moment. He had no obligation to her, she was the enemy and had very clearly expressed her hate for Jack. By all means he should have taken the horse and started riding off. Still a nagging feeling prevented him from doing so.

"Fucking idiot…" Jack muttered to himself and he grabbed his Adams revolver in his left hand.

Abandoning the horse, he ran after Bozes. She nearly lost her head again as the four bandits proved too much for even her defense. Jack took aim with his revolver.

The pistol jolted in his hand, dropping one of the bandits dead.

It let out a loud gunshot, temporarily distracting both Bozes and the bandits. Bozes was quicker to recover than her opponents and she used it to cut open one's gut. Jack took aim again.

His pistol jolted again, bringing down the third bandit.

Now only faced with one opponent, Bozes was able to focus all her attention on defeating the bandit. She was clearly the superior fighter and quickly removed the man's head from his shoulders.

Jack looked at her while loading two new cartridges into his pistol. "You're a fucking idiot."

"Don't make me try and kill you again," she retorted.

Jack cracked a smile at that. "I seem to recall winning that fight."

Bozes ignored his reply and instead looked at the battle going on around them. "Where's the princess? We need to protect her!"

"She went that way," he said while pointing in the direction he saw her charge off to.

Bozes immediately started running in that direction. "Come on, we need to keep her safe!"

Jack didn't need to do anything regarding the princess. He'd already made one mistake, saving Bozes instead of running when he had the chance. Now he had that same chance again, yet once more he had that same nagging feeling. Spitting on the ground, he took off running after her.

The armored women were far better fighters than Jack had initially assumed. He thought they'd be overwhelmed by the superior numbers of the bandits, especially when they broke any semblance of formation, and would be slaughtered by the bandits.

This proved to be an incorrect assumption. Each of the women were worth at least two of the bandits in terms of fighting prowess, and despite taking heavy casualties, they were prevailing.

"Over there!" Bozes shouted while pointing her sword at the princess.

Jack breathed in deeply, running and fighting were exhausting work and he was used to being on horseback. The princess was fighting three bandits, managing to hold to them, but unable to actually kill any of them. As always, Bozes charged in to defend her leader.

Following closely behind, Jack watched as one of the bandits broke off to engage with Bozes. He stepped past the two, deciding the princess was a higher priority.

The princess parried one blow after another, but her guard was only so good.

One of the bandits managed to stab her in an unprotected part of her arm. Another attack came at her head, she didn't have time to parry it.

Jack's sabre suddenly burst through the attacker's chest. The man fell face down on the ground, dead.

The princess didn't remain shocked for long. She took the opportunity and shoved her sword into the second bandit's throat. With their opponents dead, Jack spit onto the ground and glanced at the princess.

"Why the hell do all of you insist on fighting multiple people at once?" Jack complained groaning.

She didn't have an answer for him.

Behind them, Bozes finished off her opponent with a sword to the gut. Jack looked around at the battlefield, dozens of corpses littered the ground. He could quite clearly smell the stench of shit, sweat, and blood. It was far from the honorable battle most pictured.

Most of the bandits had either been killed or fled by now, the remaining few being finished off with sword and lance. Maybe twenty of the armored women had been killed or wounded in the fighting. Jack wiped the blood off his sabre on a nearby corpse and sheathed it at his belt.

"Princess, you're safe!" Bozes exclaimed as she made her way over to them.

She nodded. "Thanks to our prisoner's help."

That reminded Jack, he was still technically their captive. Yet despite this fact, he carried his weapons, his ammunition, and was unbound. He hoped it would remain that way.

"I think I've proved my trustworthy nature here," Jack added. "I'll be keeping my weapons this time around, and claiming my own horse."

Bozes exchanged a glance with the princess before nodding. "You've proven helpful for someone so insolent."

Jack shrugged. "And you've proven to be skilled, despite being so arrogant."

Bozes rolled her eyes.

"Speaking of which, you still haven't introduced yourselves. Quite rude for a princess, might I add."

The princess sighed. "I am Princess Pina Co Lada, tenth in line for the Imperial Throne, and these are members of my order, the Rose-Order of Knights."

Jack raised an eyebrow at that. While female knights certainly existed and women did sometimes fight, such as the famous Joan of Arc, it was very uncommon on Earth. For there to be an entire order of female knights was quite strange. With a sigh, Jack began to walk away from the two.

"Where are you going?" Bozes demanded.

Jack glanced back momentarily. "Finding a place to relieve myself," he responded with a smile.

* * *

Chapter ten, yay. This one was entirely focused on Jack, but don't worry, Harrington and Molt will be in the next one.

Corporal Tommy: Diplomacy is always a preferable alternative to bloodshed.

hellisonfire345: A single opium hit doesn't last very long, maybe like 30 minutes to an hour at most. But the thing with opium users is they never stop at one hit, they keep smoking opium until they're either out of opium or asleep which is why opium dens got a pretty bad reputation.

Perseus 12: Dragon egg's fine, but obviously Jack doesn't want the Saderans finding it. Having the British meet an apostle is planned, but it'll be a little while until it happens.

Sleipnir: No stories currently planned, I'm going to write this for a little while then go back to Little Green Men, my other story about gate.

StringofRandomNumbers: The Opium Wars actually were a result of the Chinese Emperor trying to ban opium and the British smuggling it in anyways.

Princess Moon Dew: I've got the meeting with the Warrior Bunnies planned out, don't worry about that.

I didn't respond to everyone's review mostly because there's not a lot to respond about, but I do read every one and they're great so keep reviewing.


	11. Chapter 11

Molt had made a mistake. The entire meeting with Lord Burke had gone disastrously. He'd signed a treaty he didn't mean to sign and in doing so condemned the Empire to British hegemony. Molt hadn't wanted to sign the treaty, he really didn't, but his mind had just been so clouded in that moment.

Shaking his head, Molt cleared his mind of the doubt. There was no point in mourning about the past, he needed to worry about the future.

The treaty between Sadera and Britain would have to remain; breaking a treaty so soon after signing it would just reignite the war between them, a war Sadera could not win. Fortunately the terms of the treaty were not completely crippling to the Empire.

Once Molt's mind had been cleared of the fogginess that had overwhelmed him, he'd taken the time to actually read the terms that he'd signed to. A tariff valued at five percent set on all goods traded by the British, all Saderan ports were now open to British trade, British merchants were granted extraterritorial rights, and a sum of ten thousand Suwani were to be paid as war reparations to the British government.

None of those terms were particularly debilitating. Of those terms, only two really concerned him: the tariffs and ten thousand Suwani. The low tariffs would hurt the Imperial economy and greatly reduce any benefits they gained from trading with the British, and the war reparations would further damage the Imperial treasury. Still they were far from broke.

The biggest concern that Molt had with the treaty were the stationing of British soldiers in Sadera in order to protect a newly established embassy, and the creation of a British Legation in Proptor. Both terms would clearly demonstrate Saderan weakness and encourage neighbors to start plotting against the Empire.

Molt needed to reassert Sadera as the dominant power on Falmart as quickly as he could. Zorzal's invasion of the Warrior Bunnies would be useful, but he needed more than that. Perhaps a forceful annexation of some of the Empire's vassal states would be sufficient. It would allow him to remove threats before they could truly manifest.

Molt sighed. The once mighty Empire was now fighting for its existence; the emperors before him were probably rolling in their graves.

Looking around, Molt found the pipe Lord Burke had given him. He needed to relax and the British opium seemed to be the most effective thing to do it. Heating it over the strange lamp, he gently brought it to his lips and inhaled.

Relaxation immediately spread to all parts of his body. The worries he had only minutes ago faded away into a foggy mist. Truly opium was a gift from the gods.

Molt smiled as he leaned back into his throne. At least the British brought something good with them besides problems.

* * *

The _Lerwick_ gently rocked into Bilek's harbor. Bilek look very similar to Proptor in many ways, albeit slightly smaller. Harrington hoped it wouldn't turn out the same way it had at Proptor.

Sailing beside Harrington's ship, was the _Pospisil, _led by Captain Horak it escorted them into the harbor. Horak clearly didn't trust Harrington, nor should he really. The British had already laid to waste one coastal city, Harrington doubted the man wanted Bilek to be the next target they set their guns to.

Harrington hoped he wouldn't have to do that here, his mission was trade and nothing else.

Stepping off the ship, Harrington took with him a detachment of ten Royal Marines; he wasn't sure what he'd find in the city, but he wanted to be ready for anything. Captain Horak met him on the docks and began to lead his party through the city, presumably towards the governor's palace.

As they walked, Harrington got a good exposure to the city around him. The general hustle and bustle of all large cities was present, but there was also something different. Bilek just seemed to be more cheerful than cities like London or Cape Town. Silently he wondered if Proptor had been like this before they bombarded it.

Several street children ran past him and his men; Harrington smiled as they went by. Near them several merchants tried to sell their goods. It was only then that he noticed the bag he kept his money in had been stolen. Not that British pounds would be worth anything in Bilek.

"Lively place," he commented to Captain Horak. Ever since he'd arrived in Falmart, Harrington had been working to improve his Latin, despite having a noticeable accent and some minor mispronunciations, he could now communicate well enough.

Horak looked back at him, noticing the smile on his face. "Aye, today's market day so everyone's out to sell whatever they can."

"You know we had something like this where I grew up. Once a week, everyone would come to the market place with whatever they wanted to peddle. It wasn't as lively as this though." Market day had always been Harrington's favorite as a child.

"What's it like on the other side of the gate?"

Harrington looked around him once more. "Not that different from here, truth be told. Maybe a bit less polluted, the factories in the cities don't help the air quality, but it's fairly similar to Falmart. Only humans though, none of your fantastical demi-humans on Earth."

Horak raised an eyebrow at that. "I had imagined a place full of magic, similar to Rondel."

"I suppose things aren't all that different, in this world or the next."

They continued walking and making idle conversation until they arrived at a large mansion. Horak told him to wait until a servant came to get them.

Several minutes later, a servant girl showed Harington and his men into the mansion. He was led into a comfortable room with a large table while his men waited outside it. Captain Horak and a fat man with greying hair sat on one side, Harrington took his seat at the other side.

"So you're the otherworlder?" the fat man asked.

"Yes, my lord."

The fat man slammed his hand onto the table with a boisterous laugh. "It's good to meet you then! I'm Borek, lord of this shit stain of a city."

Harrington gained an amused grin on his face. He'd met many lords and all of them had been either uptight or arrogant; it was nice to have a breath of fresh air. "It's good to meet you too, though I must say Bilek is anything but a shit stain."

Borek snorted. "You haven't seen it the day after market day. Sure it's lively today, but all that does is make a bunch of drunken fools wandering about the streets." The three men took a moment to chuckle. "So what's the purpose of you being here anyway, eh? Captain Horak said something about trade."

Harrington nodded and began speaking, "Ah, yes. My ship has arrived with a full cargo hold and an eagerness to sell it all. We just need your permission to begin trading it, I'm sure other ships from my world will also seek to trade here."

"Mhmm… Aye, you need my permission. We're still at war with you technically, us being vassals of the Empire and all." Borek ran his hand through his hair. "You've never met my king, have you?"

Harrington shook his head.

"The Lion of Elbe they call him, you need something done, King Duran will do it. He's a bit too serious for my taste, but one thing's certain: He's loyal to the Empire," Borek finished describing King Duran and cracked his knuckles. "So I've just got to ask, why shouldn't I chop off your head and send it to my king as a gift?"

Harrington thought about it for half a second before drawing his revolver and placing it on the table. He allowed them to examine it before asking, "Do you know what that is?"

Borek shrugged. "Should I?"

"That is a Model 1872 Mark III Adams .450 Revolver. I suggest you pay attention because what I'm about to tell you is important." Harrington took the pistol into his hands and cocked back the hammer. "If you were to order my head sent to your king, I would take this into my hands and kill your guards faster than you could shout for help."

Captain Horak and Lord Borek both stared at the firearm in disbelief.

"This weapon, and others like it, are the reasons why the Empire was so soundly defeated by our army. Would you like a demonstration or do you believe me?"

Borek was the first to speak. "I'm inclined to believe you for the time being, but I'd be glad to get a demonstration later."

"Excellent," Harrington said as he decocked the revolver and holstered it. "That was the first reason you should chop off my head, the second is because the Empire you owe allegiance to is weak."

"King Duran has pledged our loyalty to the Empire, to betray th-"

"Fuck King Duran and fuck the Empire," Harrington interrupted. "Do you think that the Empire, who have failed to protect their most valuable port, would raise a finger to protect Bilek?"

Both Horak and Borek had looks of shock on their face. The shock slowly faded away and Borek started to laugh. Harrington and Horak joined him in laughing.

"You're a bold one, I like it!" He gestured for a servant to bring them drinks, presumably wine. "I'll let you and your otherworldly friends trade here!"

"Excellent!" Harrington exclaimed while grabbing a glass. "Let's drink to it shall we?"

"Aye!" The three men clinked their glasses together before drinking.

When he set the glass down, Harrington made a move to stand. "I'm afraid I must be going now, it's good to know I have friends here."

"Friends indeed!" Borek praised. "Before you go though, I'd like to request something."

"Oh?"

"Your magic weapons, I'd like to buy some for my personal guard. Can you arrange that?"

Harrington smiled. "I'm sure I can get you something."

* * *

After the battle, the Rose Knights chose to make camp early so they could tend to the wounded. Makeshift stretchers were made out of spare cloaks and blankets while wounded women were bandaged. Jack grimaced at the sight of dying women being given their last comforts.

Breathing in a deep breath, he decided to try and find Bozes. The blonde woman may have been an arrogant bitch, but she was the only one Jack could really talk to. He found her lying against a tree sleeping.

Jack nudged her awake with his foot. "Sleepy are you?"

Bozes opened one eye and looked up at him with an annoyed glare. "Don't you have something better to do?"

"Not at all," he replied sitting down next to her.

"Is it common in your world for prisoners to talk so casually with their captors or is that just one of your 'charms?'" she asked with a yawn.

"Just one of my charms. I prefer to think of myself as a rather charming person."

Bozes rolled her eyes. "You should stop thinking that."

"As uptight as ever," Jack sighed. "But I've got something that'll make you a bit more free willed." He pulled a bottle out a bottle of mead from his uniform.

She glanced at it curiously. "Where'd you get that?"

"Found it on one of the bandits. I guess they like their drink," he replied with a shrug.

Bozes scoffed, "Typical of a bandit…"

"Want some?" Jack asked as he uncorked the bottle.

She shook her head. "It's not a good idea to get drunk while we're still in danger."

"On the contrary, right after a battle is the best time to get drunk. Besides, this one bottle isn't strong enough for that, nothing compared to gin or whiskey."

The look on Bozes' face told him that she wouldn't be drinking.

"Suit yourself then…" he muttered as he took a swig from the bottle. "So how did a princess and her friends form a knightly order? I haven't known many female knights to exist, let alone enough to form their own order."

Bozes looked like she wasn't going to answer, but then she sighed and started talking. "When we were younger, Princess Pina always wanted to fight for the Empire, so she gathered as many noblewomen as she could and started playing soldier."

Jack nodded his head with interest. "How did that turn from play fighting to actual fighting?"

"She managed to get a soldier to start training us, eventually we were ordained by the emperor and officially made into a knightly order."

"Wonderful story, my lady."

Bozes frowned. "Don't call me that."

"You're a noblewoman aren't you?" Jack asked with a puzzled expression. "Is it not correct to call you 'my lady?'"

"Just don't call me that," she demanded.

Jack smirked. "Of course, my lady."

Bozes promptly smacked him across the face. "Give me that," she grumbled as she took Jack's bottle of mead. Bozes took a long swig from the bottle before handing it back.

"I thought you didn't drink while in danger."

"Clearly danger's the least of my concerns here," she muttered.

Jack was going to retort with a witty remark, but the sound of horses stopped him. Leaving the bottle on the ground, he stood up and looked around for the source of the noise. Bozes followed suit.

"More bandits?" she asked with her sword drawn.

"I don't recall them having horses…" Jack replied.

The sound of horses drew closer and Jack finally spotted where it was coming from. He could see blue uniforms and pith helmets. Jack smiled, his troop was here.

He turned to Bozes with a grin on his face. "My lady, I believe my time as a captive is just about over."

"I thought I told you no-" She suddenly cocked her head to the side. "What do you mean your time as a captive is over?"

"Those are my men," he explained. "I'll be heading home now."

Before Bozes could voice a response, the cavalrymen arrived at the Rose Knight's camp. With only ten abled bodied women still capable of fighting, the British men rode in unopposed.

"You bastards left me behind!" Jack shouted in English as he approached his men.

"Aye, and we bloody glad we did! We've had so much peace and quiet without you!" Bryant shouted back at him.

"I always knew you wanted my position," Jack said as Bryant dismounted from his horse.

"If only you were that easy to kill." Bryant embraced Jack in a tight hug. "We went looking for you when we realized you weren't with us, found your horse but nothing else. Where the hell have you been?"

"Fighting battles," he replied while gesturing around him. "I found Sevso by the way, overrun by bandits."

It was at that moment that Bozes and Princess Pina chose to approach them. Bryant glanced them over. "Who are these two fine lasses?" he asked in English.

"Allow me to introduce Princess Pina Co Lada and her faithful knight Bozes," Jack answered in English. He then turned to the two women and spoke in Latin, "These are are my men, they're going to be taking me home now."

"B-but you're still our prisoner!" the princess exclaimed in outrage.

Bryant brought forward Jack's horse that they'd found earlier. "Am I really still your prisoner?" he asked while mounting the horse.

"You can't just leave!" Bozes yelled at him.

"We have fifty men, you have ten, I wouldn't risk it if I were you," Jack replied. He turned to his men and said in English, "Come on, let's get back to Proptor!"

Jack's troop started riding away from the Rose Knights, leaving Bozes and Pina in their dust. Bryant come up next to him on his horse. "You know, when we heard gunshots, we figured you'd gotten into trouble, but I never imagined you'd be lounging around with beautiful women."

Jack shook his head while laughing. "Trust me, they're beautiful, but you definitely don't want to be around them for any longer than two minutes. Arrogant and uptight, the whole lot of them."

"I'll take your word for it, sir."

"Speaking of which, we need to take a detour."

Bryant raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I left something at Sevso, it won't take long."

* * *

Chapter 9, hurrah!

hellisonfire345: Don't worry, Jack may be with his men for now, but I plan on him being in Sadera soon.

Corporal Tommy: Sharp eyes.

Sleipnir: Absolutely cavalry sabres are definitely less well suited to infantry combat, however they've been used many times on foot out of necessity and in the hands of a skilled swordsman they can still prove very effective. It's also important to note Jack is an officer and is thus using an officer's cavalry sabre (which are generally lighter and made to a higher standard than the typical trooper sabre).

Perseus 12: Interesting idea with the Mer people, I'll have to look into them before I decide on adding them or not.

Bronze Shield: I've tried to make it abundantly clear that Jack's sabre is not cutting through armor or anything like that. He's so far fought five people with his sabre, two in Chapter 8 and three in Chapter 10.

In Chapter 8 he first fights a deserter and kills the man by stabbing him through the neck, as shown in the anime Saderan soldiers don't have armor at their neck. He then goes onto fight another deserter, this time he slashes across the chest which doesn't cut through the breastplate it just winds the man with blunt impact then proceeds to swing into the collar where once more Saderan armor doesn't cover.

In Chapter 10 Jack first fights Bozes, he lands one strike on her gauntlet, which doesn't cut through, and then kicks her down. He then fights a peasant boy, I made it clear he didn't have armor so that's that. Third is possibly the one I could see you being confused about since I didn't mention if the man he stabbed had armor or not. The Battle of Italica shows that some of the deserters there abandoned some parts of their armor, some not using helmets, others not using breastplates. By this logic I think it's plausible that the bandit was not wearing a breastplate when Jack stabbed him.

This might seem like a rather long and aggressive rant for a short comment like yours (and I don't hold anything against you), but I'm a fairly big fan of medieval swordplay and I try to make my fights as realistically plausible as I can.

Feerzo 14: Don't worry Jack hasn't forgotten about the egg.

Modern Military Power: I've been making a lot of parallels to British Imperialism in China in this story, might need to start drawing on British Imperialism in India to spice it up. As for the rest of the world, news of what's really happening on the other side of the gate won't arrive until merchants start trading in Falmart.


	12. Chapter 12

"We're looking for a bloody egg?"

Jack nodded. "Yes, we're looking for a bloody egg."

Bryant rubbed his chin. "Like the kind you boil for breakfast?"

Grabbing the bridge of his nose, Jack shook his head in frustration. It seemed that none of the men in his troop could wrap their minds around why they were taking a detour to Sevso. "No, not that kind. It's a special egg."

"How so?"

Jack took another deep breath before explaining, "Well it's… bigger than a normal egg."

Bryant's face scrunched up. "So we're looking for a big egg?" He rubbed his brow. "Why are we looking for a big egg?"

"I don't bloody know…" Jack gave in. "I've just got a sort of feeling, that's all."

He could hear his men faintly laughing over the sound of their horses trotting. Jack had to admit that if he were in their position, he'd be laughing just as much as they were. Still, there was a feeling in his gut that told him the egg was important.

"Laughing at your superior officer are you?!" Sergeant-major Bain's voice snapped at the men like a whip. "You shut your mouths, or I'll have you digging latrine ditches for the rest of the week!"

That got the men to be quiet. Bain was a stern and imposing man, one of the main reasons why he was in charge of maintaining the troop's discipline, and not a single man wanted to incur his wrath.

"I need you to trust me on this one, Bryant," Jack said, lowering his voice so the men wouldn't hear him. "It may sound like insane nonsense but we need to do it."

"Always knew you were a crazy bastard, sir."

"That I am…"

After a few hours of riding, Jack was able to spot buildings in the distance; once more he had arrived at Sevso. Looking through his binoculars, he couldn't see any one in the village. It seemed that the skirmish he'd fought had scared off both the local bandits and any enterprising looters.

All the better, he was tired of fighting with locals.

As his troop galloped into Sevso, Jack tried to remember just where he'd hidden the egg. He'd marked down the location on his map, but the locally crafted scraps of paper were hardly accurate nor were they well proportioned. The entire reason they'd been sent to Sevso in the first place was to get a more accurate reading of the surrounding area.

Finally he managed to gain his bearings and headed off towards the bush where Jack had stored the egg. Bryant followed close behind, still skeptical of the entire operation, while the rest of the men prodded around the abandoned village.

When they arrived at the bush, both men dismounted from their horses and moved forward. Jack took the lead, hoping to remove the skepticism Bryant had about finding the egg by showing off its massive size. He crouched down to the bush and moved aside branches, grabbing for-

The egg was gone.

Panic shot through Jack's body. He frantically looked through the bush, hoping that someone else hadn't found the egg while he was gone. While Jack wasn't actually sure of why the egg was important, he just knew it was important. He'd be damned if he let so something important go missing.

"Jack…" He heard Bryant cock his revolver. "Don't make any sudden movements."

A warm breath hit Jack's face, causing him to freeze in place. Controlling his frenzied breathing, he slowly began to look up from his search.

There was a creature in front of him. Sat about a foot away from him, covered in scales, and with two sinewy wings was a dragon. Chills went down his spine. The thing was only around two feet tall, but Jack was still terrified; he'd seen what they'd done at the Battle of Dragonscale, Guss was dead and buried thanks to one of them.

Logically, he should have drawn his revolver and blasted the damned beast's head off. Logically, he should've been more careful about picking up random eggs. Logically, this entire detour was a waste of time and a stupid idea.

Jack wasn't thinking very logically; he had an idea, a stupid idea but still an idea.

Behind him, Bryant muttered a curse before sharply whispering, "Get the fuck away from that thing so I can shoot it!"

Jack ignored Bryant's request. He instead held out his left hand to the dragon's snout, silently whispering prayers while he did so.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?!" Bryant questioned while trying his best not to startle the dragon.

"Shut up and let me do this…" he muttered back.

Jack slowly offered his hand out for the dragon to examine. He'd dealt with stray dogs before in much a similar way, this was too different. _Right?_

Fortunately, the dragon didn't seem to be in an aggressive mood, and it curiously inspected Jack's hand. Gesturing with his other hand for Bryant to lower the gun, he carefully moved to stroke the dragon's neck.

The creature became startled, and Jack was sure he was about to lose his hand, but it soon relaxed and allowed him to stroke it. It had smooth soft scales, unlike the rough unbreakable scales from the dragons they'd killed at Dragonscale.

Suddenly the dragon climbed onto Jack's arm, crawling up it until it finally perched itself on his left shoulder. Gradually, Jack stood from his crouched position and turned towards Bryant. "See that?"

Bryant holstered his revolver, muttering, "You're a mad bastard..."

"You're the one that wanted to shoot a dragon," he replied while gently stroking his newfound companion.

"It's young, best to kill it now before it grows up into something that'll swallow you in one bite."

"But then we wouldn't have pet dragon." Jack suddenly had a thought, "What should we name her?"

Bryant rubbed his forehead. "If you think that thing's a pet, you're in for a big surprise when it gets hungry, and besides that, how do you know it's a girl anyways?"

Jack shrugged. "I've just got a feeling about it."

"You and your bloody feelings..."

Jack chose to ignore Bryant's comment. "I think I'll name her Vira, after a girl I knew in London."

"Just don't get eaten," Bryant muttered while walking back to his horse.

Jack grinned and followed closely behind, the dragon still on his shoulder. "I'll try not to."

* * *

Adjacent to Lord Borek's mansion in Bilek, there was a large courtyard dedicated as a practice area. The courtyard was mostly used by men of Lord Borek's personal guard, who were taken from the finest of Bilek's city guard and trained to be an elite force of soldiers. Normally there would have been dozens of men practicing their skills to become better swordsmen.

On this day, however, a force of British Royal Marines stood in the courtyard.

Captain Harrington had assembled together every single marine on his ship for this demonstration. He wanted to thoroughly impress Lord Borek and Captain Horak; after all, if he could prove the superiority of British weaponry then he'd be able to sell it to them at vastly inflated prices.

Harrington smiled as Borek and Horak approached him; behind the two men was a dark skinned woman in chains. As they came closer, he was able to spot that the woman had greatly elongated ears and white hair.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat partially unsure of how to begin. "It's good to see to see you again, my lord. Might I ask who our new company is?"

Lord Borek gave a wide grin in response. "Good to see you too, friend!" He gestured to the woman with long ears, "This is one of my slave girls, a dark elf. She's skilled in magic, so I've brought her here to observe your demonstration."

Harrington raised an eyebrow. He'd heard that there were many species in Falmart, but this was the first time he'd gotten an up close look at one. The elf had an emotionless look on her face as he looked her over. Though she looked mostly human, there were certainly a few differences; her ears were the most obvious, but there was also a strangely foreign way that her face and body were structured, elongated and almost too perfect in appearance.

"Pretty one isn't she? We picked her up about a month ago when she came begging for help. Apparently her village had a famine, she offered to sell herself in exchange for food and I gladly accepted," Lord Borek chuckled as he spoke. "I'll let you have her for a night if you decide to stick around for a little longer."

Harrington shuddered at the thought. The elf was too alien, while another man might have been entranced by her beauty, he was mildly disgusted. "I'll have to decline; I plan on leaving very shortly."

"Ah, I see, friend." Lord Borek nodded in understanding. "Let's see your demonstration then; I want to see if all the things you've boasted about your magic weapons are true."

"Not so fast, my friend. I'd first like to see a demonstration of your… servant's magic." Harrington had heard much about the wonders of Saderan "magic," but he had yet to see any mages actually practice it. Proptor's mages had fled before the city fell, leaving British forces wondering if they truly had magic or if it was merely just clever tricks.

Lord Borek's face grew a bemused look on it. "Interested in her are you?"

Harrington didn't like what he was insinuating.

Receiving no reply from Harington, Borek shrugged. "I suppose there's no harm in it." He turned to the elf and pointed towards a target dummy they'd set up. "Show us what you can do."

The elf said nothing as she stepped forward. Harrington wasn't expecting much from her, maybe some sort of trick with chemistry or even a primitive form of firearm that they deemed to be "magic." Even if she had real magic, he doubted it would be anything of major power.

She muttered something in a language Harrington couldn't understand. It was similar to the tricks used by gypsies and other forms of so called magic men to pass the illusion of magic. _Just as I thought, noth-_

Harrington's eyes went wide when between the elf's hands, a ball of fire was formed. He'd never seen a parlor trick like that. There was no fuel to sustain the inferno she had levitating between her hands, by all accounts it shouldn't have been possible.

He did his best to conceal his surprise as the elf shot the ball of fire forward at the target, causing it to erupt into an explosion that engulfed the dummy. The armor on the dummy was scorched completely black by the fiery explosion, proof that it wasn't just an illusion. She really did have magic.

"I… I…" Harrington recomposed himself. He still had a demonstration to begin and weapons to sell. "Impressive, my lord, but it seems the target is still intact."

Lord Borek scoffed at that, "Did you expect my slave to obliterate it completely? She's an elf, not a master sorceress."

"Ah…" It seemed that, while impressive, magic took lots of skills to become truly destructive. "Well then allow me to remedy that."

"What do you-"

"Volley fire present!" Borek was cut off by the shout of Harrington's lieutenant.

All at once, the Royal Marines brought their rifles to bear and pointed them downrange.

"Aim!"

The marines sighted down the scorched target.

"Fire!"

In a thunderous roar, the rifles spat out bullets towards the target and utterly obliterated the dummy. The massed rifle fire turned the breastplate it had been wearing into shreds of metal, while the dummy itself splintered into several pieces.

Captain Horak, who had up until this point remained silent, was the first to recover from his shock. "What kind of magic does that?!"

Harrington turned towards the fellow captain and clapped him on the shoulder. "The kind that allows a single ship to destroy the Imperial Navy."

"How many of these weapons can you supply us?" Borek suddenly asked.

Harrington grabbed his chin as if he was thinking it through. "I have twenty Brown Bess muskets I can give you, including a barrel of the magic powder that makes they work. In a short time I could get you hundreds of them."

"And these are the same weapons that your men just used?" Captain Horak questioned.

Harrington shook his head. "Well you see, the Brown Bess is actually a far more powerful weapon than what my men just used. It is far more capable of destroying a target, and I think you'll be far better pleased by them." That was a blatant lie, but he'd be damned if he gave these savages Martini-Henry or even Snider rifles. Brown Bess muskets were cheap and would allow British forces to maintain a significant technological advantage.

"And your price?" Lord Borek asked with a gleam in his eye.

Harrington was going to ask for gold or jewelry, but then his eye caught elf woman's gaze. The British Empire had plenty of gold and jewels, what they didn't have was magic.

"I want her," he replied, pointing at the elf.

Lord Borek burst out in a fit of laughter. "You really are interested with the girl!" He took a deep breath and composed himself. "You have a deal, my friend!" Borek nodded to Horak who began to unlock the elf's shackles.

Harrington forced himself to smile in spite of his partial disgust at the insinuation. He looked back to his lieutenant and yelled in English, "Take the men back to my ship! Make sure you hand over a crate of muskets to the port officials!"

The lieutenant nodded and began to shout orders to his men. Harrington turned back to Lord Borek and Captain Horak with a smile.

"I suppose that concludes our business then," Borek spoke with a large grin on his face.

"Indeed it does, my lord." Harrington gestured for the elf woman to follow him and he departed. "Take care, friend."

As Harrington and the elf made for the exit, he looked her over a second time. He hadn't caught her expression when the guns had gone off, but she seemed to be shaken. Harrington supposed that was to be expected, he had after all intended it to be a massive display of force.

"What's your name?" he abruptly asked.

She looked mildly surprised that he had addressed her, before responding, "Yao Haa Dushi, master."

"Captain Wiley Harrington, at your service. You can address me as captain or sir, but not master. When we arrive aboard the ship I'll have you sign a contract employing you temporarily in the Royal Navy."

"You mean I'll-"

"Yes, you'll be free. I want to give you the opportunity to willingly cooperate with me."

She looked grateful. "Thank you, sir."

Harrington chuckled. "Don't thank me yet, you've just been press ganged into the Royal Navy. It's not an easy job, I can assure you."

* * *

Well hasn't it been a long time. Truth be told, I kind of lost both motivation and confidence in my writing and looking back at some of the early chapters of Little Green Men only made that worse. God those early chapters are terrible. I was going to abandon writing entirely, but looking back at all of your kind reviews made me reconsider that. I definitely won't have the same update speed as before, there's just too much going on in my life for that, but I hope I'll be able to at very least continue this story gradually. I'm undecided about Little Green Men though; the story's just not very good in my opinion, but trying to rewrite that monster would take far too much time. I don't know if I should continue it. Anyways I'm going to answer some reviews even though they're months old.

hellisonfire345: Imagine that indeed.

Bhanos: So far the British are the sole controllers of the gate with it being right next to Cape Colony. This means that the French won't be able to send any warships or military forces into Sadera as long as Britain is the only one with a gate.

Corporal Tommy: Opium is a powerful drug.

Feerzo 14: You're good at predicting things. And with Italica, it's a major trade route so I'll definitely have the British visit there at some point.

Sleipnir: There will be some big battles, but I can't spoil where they are or what happens. And also if we're talking Victorian Era British soldiers, the JSDF would absolutely destroy them. There is no way a modern military would be defeated by them, air support alone could obliterate the army. Now if we're talking modern British soldiers, then the JSDF would get destroyed since they've never been deployed in battle and have no experience whereas the British Military has been fighting in the Middle East for years now.

Perseus 12: Hail Britannia!

Lex: Interesting ideas, I won't spoil the story I have in mind by confirming or denying them.

Kyleliberty: Good idea.

Papon777: A wonderful turn of events!

Psycho-Kozel: So obviously for the time being they've got to use ships and horses to get around. However in time they'll begin constructing railroad systems similar to those in Africa, where they're designed with the sole purpose of exporting resources from Sadera to Proptor and then from there to Earth.

shiroen9028: Thank you!

LogicalWriter: You know what, the 91st Highlanders fought in the Zulu War, I think I'll include them.

Assistant Elite General Matteo: Thank you!

GhostScorch: I'm thinking of having a major head start for the British but then later having other nations come into the fray.

the survier and the fighter: Yeah, that might be a problem when British missionaries come in large numbers.

ManxomeFoe: Cornileus Tacitus makes mention of a white flag being used for surrender in 109 CE. It was also used commonly in the Middle Ages to indicate surrender. And yeah the Rose Order's not an all female order, but the initial force Itami encountered was all female so I went with a similar scenario.

King Quinn Of Tucky: British colonists are soon to come, though it'll mostly be merchants at first. More Jack and Bozes scenes in the future to come.


	13. Chapter 13

When Jack and came riding back to his troop with a dragon resting on his shoulder, there was a fearful response. Most of his men wanted to blast Vira's head off, similarly to how Bryant initially reacted. Only some were fine with the idea of a dragon riding with them.

In all honesty, who could blame them? Only about a week had passed since they'd watched their fellow soldiers get eaten alive by the same kind of creature now riding towards Proptor with them. Dragons were dangerous creatures, not the kind of things you wanted anywhere near you.

Jack should have felt the same way about Vira, but, for some reason, he bore a sort of bond with the little beast. It was similar to the bond he had with his horse, though that had only been gained after months of riding.

Regardless of how his men felt, they kept their thoughts to themselves for the time being. Jack knew that they'd eventually speak their minds, but he hoped he'd be able to tame Vira by then and potentially prove her usefulness to the men.

The feeling of movement in his saddlebags drew his attention. Jack smiled as he watched Vira comfortably shift positions while letting out a yawn. She might have been a dragon, but she was also a baby. Unable to fly yet, Vira was forced to ride with Jack on his horse. The bumpy ride didn't seem to bother her as she snuggled into his saddlebags.

Several hours of riding through the Saderan countryside led Jack and his men back to Proptor. The sight of the Union Jack flying over Proptor's gates was reassuring to them all, mostly to Jack though, who'd nearly died during their little expedition three times.

As they came riding to the gate, Jack spotted several of the men guarding it. The guards wore uniforms similar to other foot regiments with only one major exception: some of them were wearing kilts. They'd found the Highlanders.

Jack rode up to the one who looked to be in charge, a sergeant bearing with a large beard, and began to introduce himself, "Greeting's sergeant, I'm-"

"WHIT TH' BUGGER IS THAT?!" Jack was rudely interrupted by the Scotsmen's shout of surprise.

Next to Jack, Vira's head had poked through the saddlebag she'd been lying in, putting her into full view of the Scotsmen. Immediately, the Highlanders were on their feet with rifles pointed at Vira and Jack. In response, Jack's men raised their carbines and pistols towards the Scotsmen.

"Just fucking try it, you Scottish bastards!" one of Jack's men yelled at them. While they may not have supported Jack bringing a dragon with them, they'd still follow him no matter what.

"Fuck you, ye English shit stains!" came the Scottish response.

"I bet you'd like that!"

"Gae tae hell!"

Jack knew he had to do something quick, the conflict could easily escalate from a yelling match into something far worse. As much as he appreciated his men's loyalty, they weren't making the situation any better by antagonizing the Scotsmen. He just needed to figure out a way to deescalate the situation peacefully.

"Just give the order, sir! We'll blast these treasonous blighters back to Glasgow!" Bryant declared with his revolver pointed at the Highlander sergeant.

The Highlanders didn't appreciate that comment. "Treasonous?! Yer tae fuckin' idiots bringing a dragon into Proptor!"

Jack finally decided to intervene. "Lower your damned weapons!" he ordered his men. The lancers looked between themselves for a moment before reluctantly lowering their guns. "Good…" he breathed out slowly. "Now would you please have your men do the same so that I might explain the dragon?"

A flash of suspicion went over the Highlander sergeant's face, but he eventually grumbled out the order for his men to lower their guns. With the guns out of each other's faces, he could speak his piece at last.

"This dragon," Jack began, "is not yet capable of harming anyone. The dragons at Dragonscale were bigger than carriages, this little creature isn't any larger than a poodle. In fact, it'll probably save thousands of lives."

"Ye? Hou the fuck is that?" The Scotsman didn't believe a dragon could do anything but slaughter them.

"You have to know your enemy in order to beat them. If we have our own dragon, don't you think it'll be a hell of a lot easier to learn how to take down the Saderan ones?"

"Weel…" The lancer had a point.

Jack could see the Scotsman was close to giving in. He just needed to be pushed over the edge. "Look, you're free to refuse us entry, but I have a good feeling that our superiors wouldn't be very happy about that. I'd hate for you to get demoted over a simple misunderstanding."

The Highlander finally conceded, "A'richt, a'richt. We'll let ye in."

"Excellent!" Jack exclaimed with a smile. "Let's start over, I'm Captain Jack Campbell, 17th Lancers."

"Sergeant Keegan McGowan, 91st Highlanders, sir," he replied, only just realizing he'd been arguing with an officer.

"At ease, man. I'm not going to report you or anything," Jack reassured. "We can forget that any of this ever happened."

"Thank ye, sir," McGowan replied. "You can head on in, if ye like."

Jack gave a nod of appreciation and spurred his horse forward. The Highlanders moved out of the way, allowing the lancers to pass through. As Jack's horse trotted past McGowan, Vira poked her head out at him. Jack could have sworn she was glaring.

* * *

_HMS Lerwick _was finally out at sea again. With a successful trade mission behind him, Harrington had ordered his crew to set sail for Proptor, where he hoped a promotion to admiral was waiting for him.

He'd accomplished his original goal, opening up another major port for trade with British merchants, in addition to so much more. Harrington's mission also indirectly weakened Saderan rule over the continent by providing an alternative for trade besides the Empire. Additionally with British muskets being sold to Elbe, the kingdom was in a far better position to break free from Sadera and gain full independence. Even if King Duran was loyal to the Empire, Harrington was fairly certain that Lord Borek had none of the same loyalties. One way or another, Bilek would end up free of Saderan rule.

Of course, his most important gain from the journey was Yao Haa Dushi, a practitioner of magic, real magic. She was Harrington's ace in the hole; he was of the utmost certainty that the elf was going to secure his promotion.

British scientists and tinkerers would be ecstatic with what they could discover from Yao. Practical applications, in addition to theoretical work, would no doubt be a great boone for British technology and further their dominance over the world. The discoveries of Darwin, Mendel, and Newton would pale in comparison to what Yao would unlock for the world.

Harrington would be seen as a hero; he'd get his promotion and retain command over the British Navy in Falmart, he'd maybe even get a knighthood for his deeds. To be remembered through the ages, it was everything he'd ever wanted.

He was making his way up in the world.

* * *

Lord Burke toured the marketplace in Sadera. He was trying to get a better idea of just exactly what resources the Empire had at their disposal; several scribes had offered to provide lists, but Burke didn't exactly see Saderan scribes to be the most trustworthy source. Even if he did trust them, he'd always found it was prudent to trust but verify.

There were all sorts of exotic things around him, from foreign creatures to mysterious goods. It reminded Burke of his first trip to India, where he'd been thrown head first into a different culture with no prior preparation. That trip had inspired Burke to become a diplomat; he'd found his love of foreign culture there.

Sadera certainly had a culture to admire.

As he looked around, Burke couldn't help but realize that everything was within his reach. The mighty Emperor Molt Sol Augustus was now eating out of his hand, begging for scraps of opium. While the man had lapses of clarity, for the most part the Emperor was firmly within his control. Queen Victoria would be most delighted in what he'd achieved in Sadera.

Of course, his control wasn't fully established. There were still those who held power in the Empire who he couldn't touch. Prince Zorzal was one such man.

So far, all of Lord Burke's interactions with the Prince had been hostile and short lived. Opium didn't seem to interest Zorzal, who'd deemed it to be fit only for commoners, so he needed another way to control the Prince.

So far, him and his team had been working on collecting information on the Prince's interests. From a mere glance, Zorzal was quite clearly arrogant and self absorbed, idealizing honor and inflating his appearance to project the ideal princely behavior. Further investigation had revealed other things though: the man was sadistic, he loved to bring suffering to others, slaves especially, and was willing to wage war in order to do it. Such things disgusted Lord Burke, who had been brought up on liberal ideals, but he said nothing to reveal his views on the matter.

In fact, he had a plan to use it to his advantage.

Zorzal's hostility was the main reason he was having difficulties in Sadera's senate. As prince, he held influence over some senators and was seen as an alternative to Molt by others. For as long as Zorzal was against him, Burke also had to face a significant portion of the senate that was against him as well. So the solution was simple, befriend Zorzal.

The Prince's willingness and pursuit to wage war for the acquisition of slaves was Burke's ticket onto Zorzal's good side. If British soldiers happened assist in such matters, Burke might be able to gain Zorzal as an ally. While it would mean helping the Empire enslave a nation, it would also be a step towards British rule.

First though, he'd need to get more men to Sadera. His current detachment of six men was barely enough to provide a small escort for himself and his team of diplomats. That wasn't an immediate priority though; his current men-

"Eh, you!" a call suddenly brought him out of his thoughts.

Lord Burke looked around stunned. While deep in thought, he'd somehow wandered away from the market place and down a street he didn't recognize. The two soldiers who'd been escorting him seemed equally lost as well.

"You deaf or something?" Burke focused his attention towards the voice. A large group of unsavory looking people were approaching him and his escort.

"No, not particularly…" he replied while his escorts raised their rifles towards the men. Burke knew that they wouldn't be able to hold off the group if it came to it, there were just too many of them. "Is there something I can help you gentlemen with?"

There was a brief pause as the man at the head of the group cocked his head in confusion. "I've never heard someone speak like you. Never seen someone that looks like you either."

Lord Burke's heart beat increased ever so slightly. "I come from a land very far-"

"He's one of the otherworlders!" one of the thugs suddenly realized.

The leader glanced back at the thug before looking at Lord Burke. "Is that so?"

The diplomat hesitated, "W-well I can ass-"

"My brother died at the Battle of Protus," he snapped, cutting Lord Burke off. The man began to walk towards Burke and his escorts. As the man came closer, Burke was able to discern several scars across his body.

"I-I had no..." for the first time in many years, Burke found himself at a loss for words. The man before him was dangerous. He trembled while grabbing for the derringer pistol tucked away in his suit pocket.

"Hey, hey…" The man held his hands in the air while smiling a sick grin. "There's nothing to be afraid of here."

Somehow, Burke didn't believe him. He wiped a small bead of sweat from his brow as the man came closer. Every step on the cobblestone echoed through the street. Burke quickly glanced at the empty street behind him.

"Stay back!" one of his escorts shouted in English. The warning didn't work and the man kept walking forward.

"I'm warning you! Stay ba-"

Suddenly the man sprinted towards Lord Burke. He paid no attention to the two soldiers with rifles, instead entirely intent on reaching the diplomat.

The derringer in Burke's hand clattered to the ground as his grip failed him. Death was approaching, he could feel it. Years of work as a British diplomat flashed in his memory.

Two gunshots sounded out from either side of him; the man dropped to the ground.

Lord Burke's glanced to the soldiers besides him. They held smoking rifles, daring for anyone else to come at them. He wanted to feel safe in their presence, but Burke knew better; their rifles only had one shot and the thugs in front of them numbered too many.

"Sir, I recommend you get to safety. We'll hold them back while you go," one of them commanded, lowering his rifle's bayonet towards the thugs.

Burke blinked several times. "I-I can't just leave y-"

The shock that had overcome the thugs finally faded and they came charging at his escorts. His decision was made for him, Burke began to run from them as fast as his legs would carry him.

Sounds of battle echoed in the street. Burke's escorts were both veteran soldiers with years of experience behind them. They'd fought the Ashanti, Xhosa, and Zulu in dozens of skirmishes and battles, but ultimately they were only two men. Two men against a dozen.

His men died behind him.

* * *

So I'm not 100% satisfied with this chapter, but for the life of me I can't seem to improve it no matter what I do. Oh well, the next chapter will hopefully be better. Thanks for reading anyways.

Perseus 12: Eh I don't know about adding mechs or anything, I try to keep what I write fairly realistic (as much as you can in a fantasy world) and I'm not sure about mechs.

WarGlory: Glad to be back, though I wouldn't say my stories are well written. I've got decent spelling due to spell check, but oh man my grammar is terrible. With Harrington and his reaction to slavery, by this point he's learned some of the cultural norms of Falmart, so seeing slavery isn't a big shock. Slavery in 1879 isn't uncommon either, the US only abolished it 17 years prior, and in Brazil it only was abolished in 1888. There's also a lot of forced labor in African colonies such as the Belgian Congo which, while technically not slavery, is just as brutal in some cases. Slavery (or systems such as "apprenticeships" which were practically the same) in British Malaya wasn't abolished until 1915, in Hong Kong until 1923, in British Burma in 1926, and British Sierra Leone in 1927.

Commander 31: Unfortunately the British Army never used the Agar gun or the Williams gun. They did however purchase some Gatling guns which serve a very similar role. Also the Lee Metford Rifle didn't become Britain's standard issue rifle until 1888 so unfortunately I can't add that either.

Feerzo 14: For the time being, they only have Vira and no male dragon so no breeding dragons yet.


	14. Chapter 14

When Jack had reported to his squadron-leader, Major Penn, that he'd found and brought back a dragon, he was at first met with disbelief from the major. It took him actually bringing Vira to Penn's office for the major to take his report seriously. The news that Jack had managed to bring a dragon to Proptor quickly traveled up the chain of command until it finally reached General Alford himself, who promptly commanded Vira be studied in order to learn more about dragons in general.

Unfortunately, that order meant that Jack was separated, at least temporarily, from Vira. Jack wasn't surprised, but it still bothered him to be apart from the dragon.

"Oh well…" he muttered to himself in the barracks his troop had been assigned. That was just the way the army worked; individual soldiers rarely had their personal feelings influence high command's decisions.

Regardless, life went on. Several days passed since Jack and his men had returned to Proptor, and relatively little happened. The city was still being rebuilt after the bombardment which meant there was a great deal of impoverished people living on the streets. Poor conditions often created breeding grounds for criminal activity, and thus Jack's troop had been assigned to policing activities.

It was fairly boring work, mostly involving stopping looters and hunting down pickpockets. Only occasionally would there be a serious crime to respond to which resulted in them mostly sitting around doing nothing. For the first time since stepping foot into Falmart, Jack was truly bored.

He looked around the barracks, a repurposed storehouse near the docks, and let out a deep sigh. Behind him, several of his men were gambling away their week's wages with cards. Jack didn't approve of the practice, but stopping it was pointless; they were off duty, and it was their money to lose anyways.

The place wasn't completely full. Earlier that day, Bryant had taken out around a quarter of the men out on patrol. With any luck, they'd be back soon and Jack would be able to take over leading the men. Until then though, he had lots of time.

Jack's mind wandered to memories of Guss. If he was here, Jack wouldn't have been bored in the slightest. On the contrary, he'd probably be a mix of annoyed and intrigued by his friend's fantastical theories of the world and beasts around them.

Guss would have loved Vira; he would have loved a lot of things they'd discovered.

Trying to avoid falling into a depressive mood, Jack shifted his attention to work. With Guss gone, he still needed to find a replacement lieutenant. He'd managed to put off the task while they were exploring the countryside, but now he had no more excuses.

Jack could try and get a man from the officer's academy in order to replace Guss. That would be the typical route to take, and it would provide him with someone who'd been properly educated for the task. However, that would also guarantee that his new lieutenant would have little to no experience.

Alternatively, he could also try and get someone transferred from another regiment as a replacement. Hundreds of men had been arriving enmasse to replace the British losses at Dragonscale; Jack could probably get a man from there. The only issue was he wouldn't have any assurance of either skill or ability.

It was a frustrating problem. Neither route would ensure he'd get a competent lieutenant, and his men's lives were reliant on the quality of their officers. Ideally he'd be able to get someone from another troop in his regiment, a man who was proven in battle, but Jack knew they didn't have officers to spare. His troop wasn't the only one that had lost men.

Just as he was about to give up on the issue and come back to it later, a messenger entered the barracks. Standing from his seat, Jack walked up to the messenger, who saluted upon seeing him.

"Sir, Major Penn wishes to see you immediately; he says it's an urgent matter."

Jack grabbed his pith helmet while asking, "Did he say what the urgent matter is?"

The messenger shook his head. "He didn't say much, sir; all I know is you need to get there quick."

"Alright then…" Jack muttered while shoving past the man. He exited the barracks and immediately began walking towards Major Penn's office at a quickened pace.

Fortunately for him, the major's office was nearby to Jack's barracks. The man was their squadron-leader so it made sense for him to be close. It only took him a few minutes to reach the place.

As Jack entered the building, he was overwhelmed by a horrid smell, that of rotten fish guts and long expired seafoods. Major Penn's office had been the storehouse for a fishery before the bombardment, but the building had been seized for use by the army. It was a wonder how the major accomplished any work with the stench.

Jack covered his nose as he walked through the building, With so many structures damaged in Proptor, he supposed there was a lack of suitable spaces to use; he was lucky that his troop had received a relatively clean building to use as their barracks.

Knocking on the door first, Jack entered Major Penn's office and quickly shut the door behind him. He was relieved to find that the room was a great deal less smelly than the rest of the building.

"Ah, Captain Campbell, I'm grateful you were able to come on such short notice," Major Penn stated, drawing Jack's attention to him.

Jack snapped a salute and replied, "Truth be told, sir, I don't have a very busy schedule."

The major nodded while bringing his hand to his chin. "Well, that's soon to change." He paused and brought out a piece of paper from his desk before continuing, "This is a letter General Alford received this morning from our people in the Saderan capital. They're requesting that he send immediate reinforcements."

"What for, sir?" As far as Jack knew, fighting had stopped between British and Saderan forces.

Major Penn scratched his neck before replying, "Apparently, our lead diplomat, Lord Webster Burke, was kidnapped by thugs in the streets of the city."

Jack couldn't believe what he was hearing. Did the Saderans really want a war with Britain? "Soldiers attacked him?"

Penn shook his head. "No, not soldiers. As far as we're aware, the men who kidnapped him have no relation to Emperor Molt or the Saderan senate. We're dealing with an organization outside of their control."

"Right, bandits… I've dealt with a few of them before."

Penn nodded. "I read your report on Sevso. It seems likely that this is the work of some sort of bandit group, but we can't be sure. Since you've already familiarized yourself with the local language and peoples, General Alford has elected to send you to investigate the incident and protect the remaining diplomatic staff."

"My troop's understrength, sir. We're down four men, including one of my lieutenants." If Jack was going to be headed into a potentially hostile city, he wanted his men to be at full strength.

Major Penn took in a deep breath. "Yes… about that. I'll transfer three troopers to make up the loses you had."

"And my lieutenant?"

There was a brief silence as the major thought about his next words. "Colonel Burton's nephew has recently been transferred into the 17th Lancers. Apparently the boy didn't do very well in the military academy, but the colonel's influence managed to get him through. Burton has ordered that I ensure the boy sees some action in order to toughen him up."

Jack sat in silence; he didn't like where this was going.

"Seeing as Colonel Burton is the head of our regiment, I can't exactly refuse his orders so I'm assigning the boy to your troop. Hopefully you can make him into something competent, but if you can't, just keep him alive," Penn finished.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Granted."

"You're risking the lives of my men by doing this, sir. We're about to enter what could very well be enemy territory; if that boy does something stupid, it could cause the deaths of my men and end our task in failure," Jack declared while rubbing his brow..

"I agree, but unfortunately I can't do anything about it," the major replied with a sigh.

"Send him to another troop, have him do policing actions, anything but sending him with me. It's too risky for him to come with us," Jack insisted.

Penn shook his head. "Colonel Burton gave me specific orders; there's no way around this. Just deal with it how you can."

Jack took a deep breath before asking, "What about Vira?"

The major looked confused. "The dragon you brought in? What about it?"

"A dragon could be useful, sir. We saw what they can do at Dragonscale."

"The dragon you brought is merely a baby; it can't even fly yet. We still need to study it, and until it gets bigger, it's staying with our researchers," Penn replied.

Jack sighed but nodded in acceptance. "Fine, sir. I'll get my men ready to ride."

Major Penn nodded. "Good, I want your troop on the road as soon as possible. Time is of the essence here."

"Yes, sir," Jack said with a salute before he exited the building.

* * *

Emperor Molt had a problem. In all his years as emperor, he'd never encountered a problem of this magnitude. It was something that he'd never thought he would ever have to deal with.

He'd run out of opium.

It started about a week ago, when the news came that Lord Burke had been kidnapped in broad daylight by an unknown group. Almost immediately, the remaining British diplomats in the capital sent a rider to Proptor and holed themselves up in their quarters, refusing entry to anyone.

For the first couple days, Molt was content to let them do just that. No British interference meant that he could work on his plans unhindered. What he hadn't realized was that Lord Burke had been the one supplying his opium, and very quickly Molt's small stockpile dwindled.

It started with annoyance. Molt found that the slightest thing would agitate him and cause him to get angry. He started to snap at servants, having them punished for the slightest mishap, but that wasn't all, it got worse. Molt soon wasn't able to stand the presence of his advisors, so he dismissed them. Matters of the state were no longer of major concern to Molt, his temper couldn't handle it.

Then came the fear.

Traitors were all around him. No one was on his side. The senate, the people, even his own children were all conspiring against him and his power. He would have had them all executed, but his guards were also in on the plot. There was nothing he could do to stop it. He was helpless.

By the seventh day, his body began to ache and sleep became a distant memory. Molt spent his days in agony, unable to move without immense pain. Any attempts at statecraft were cut short by violent nausea and head splitting pain. The Empire was left without an effective ruler.

Molt needed his opium; he needed it now.

Sweat poured down his body as he tried to throw himself out of bed. One of his guards tried to help him stand, but Molt pushed him away with what little strength he had. The man was a traitor anyway.

Leaning against a wall, he fought down the urge to vomit and made his way out of his chambers. The hallway leading to his throne room was too long, he'd never make it. A wave of nausea suddenly hit him and Molt was forced onto the floor. He felt tears well up in his eyes.

Ignoring his fears for the time being, Molt called for his guards with a raspy voice, "G-get over here!" His hands were shaking; he needed opium. "Useless… idiots," he muttered to himself when he noticed the guards still hadn't reached him.

Acting cautiously, while also probably trying to figure out the best way to kill him, Molt's guards lifted him from the ground. They stood him up on his feet, causing a wave of anger to rush over Molt. The insolent fools; did they expect him to walk in this state?

"Carry me to my throne," he rasped out. The two men looked at each other for a moment before lifting him up. _Too slow… They're conspiring._

The guards grunted as they carried him through the halls. What only took a few minutes felt like hours to Molt. He could feel the agony each step they took in his joints. _Do they know how to walk properly?!_

Molt didn't know when he was sat down on his throne, but eventually he found himself gazing over the throne room with several ministers looking at him with concern. _Or is it malice?_

Several minutes passed in silence. _Or was it hours? _Molt couldn't discern how much time had passed. The pain in his head was too great to think clearly.

One of the ministers began to talk. His voice was slow and hesitant; it seemed that he prefered flowery language and refused to get to the point. Molt couldn't understand what he was trying to say. All he knew was that the man was becoming an annoyance.

He tried to think of something good. The glory of a defeated enemy, the satisfaction of a plan coming together, the sweet feeling of an opium pipe in between his lips. No matter what he thought of the man's voice wouldn't go away.

_Go away…_

_Go away…_

_Go away!_

"GO AWAY!"

Molt's voice cracked through the room like a whip. That got the traitor to shut up finally. His hands began to shake once more as the ministers looked at him in fear. They were all traitors anyway. Traitors who feared his power.

Molt broke the silence that settled over the room, "Get me my opium!"

No one made a move. No one said a word.

Irritation spread through Molt's body once more. "My opium! Get it!"

One of the men spoke. It was Marcus, or at least Molt thought it was, his trusted retainer. "We cannot get more opium, your imperial majesty. The British refuse to speak with us."

It seemed Marcus was either a traitor or an idiot. Why should Molt have to wait for the British? He was Emperor Molt Sol Augustus! He led the greatest empire in the world! HE WAS NOT SOME SERVANT TO BE IGNORED!

"I DON'T CARE!" he shouted at his retainer. Molt trembled for a moment before collecting himself. "Do what you must; get me that opium."

There were a few hushed whispers among his advisors, treasonous schemes most likely, before Marcus gave a deep bow. "At once, your imperial majesty."

* * *

Chapter 14 here we are, the next chapter's going to have a lot more action.

hellisonfire345: Indeed

Blazblade: Zorzal's easily manipulated, as shown by Tyuule in the anime, so while he might stab them in the back he could also become a British puppet.

Perseus12: I'm not familiar with the Fairy Tail anime so probably won't add anyone from there in. However demi-humans and mages are definitely of a big interest to the British.

KAKYOINOVERHEAVEN: Probably not. Airplanes require engines in order to function effectively and it wasn't until the 1900s that car engines became a suitable source to power airplanes. At most it might help with glider development, but that's already been around for decades.

Bronze Shield: I took a little break, but now I'm back.

SirSaulty1995: 100% the Martini-Henry Rifle isn't suited for urban warfare (urban warfare was generally avoided in the 19th century with heavy bombardment and sieges being the preferred method of taking a city) however it still can work when employed enmasse like it's intended to be. The simple fact of the matter is that importing specialized weapons such as lever action rifles (which most European armies rejected because they fired pistol cartridges and thus were viewed as too weak) would be too much of a logistical hassle for the British. They'd have to bring in an entirely new ammunition, and simply bringing more men is an easier solution.

Also the British don't care if their puppet ruler is sadistic or not, they only care about if they're easy to manipulate and control. The Warrior Bunnies are pretty much unknown by the British, all they do know is that they're a smaller nation that can be easily conquered.

Finally, the British don't use the Beaumont-Adams Revolver by the Zulu War, though I can see how you're confused seeing as the Wikipedia page is pretty terrible for the subject. By the Anglo-Zulu War, the Beaumont-Adams had been replaced by the M1872 Mark III Adams revolver which was a breach-loading, single action, cartridge revolver (Wikipedia puts the Adams revolver on the same page as the Beaumont-Adams which is the source of the confusion). Also the Enfield Mk1 was fairly disliked because it was overly complicated, jammed a lot, and had an under powered cartridge.

Feerzo 14: Yeah I'm still undecided about Vira's role in the coming chapters, but I'm open to suggestions.

And about Wattpad, I've got an account called dingdang888, but I think I'll keep that to original stories only and keep fanfictions on this site. There's only one thing published on that account btw and it is absolutely terrible in terms of quality. It was my first foray into writing so my grammar, writing style, and plot structure is abysmal.


	15. Chapter 15

Sergeant Early McGuire held his breath as the Saderans once more gave their demands. He was holed up in the British embassy in Sadera with two other soldiers and a small group of diplomats. Truth be told, to call the room they'd barricaded themselves in an embassy was a gross misuse of the word. It was barely bigger than a small cottage, with only just enough room to house everyone.

Ever since Lord Burke and his escorts had gone missing, McGuire had been put in command of the small group. Since he wasn't sure if the men who'd attacked Lord Burke were working for the Empire or not, he'd ordered that the embassy be barricaded and sent a messenger to Proptor. No contact was to be made with the Saderans until he got word back from Proptor.

McGuire had given those orders nearly a week ago.

The Saderans once more shouted at them to open the door and surrender. McGuire wasn't sure exactly what to do at this point. Their meager food stockpile would be gone in less than a few days; their water supply was already dry. He still didn't know if the Saderans would execute them all if they opened the door, or if they'd only take their opium stash like they kept promising. McGuire didn't want to find out.

Sadera was only two to three days away from Proptor on horseback. Any British reinforcements coming would be here by the end of the day. If the reinforcements didn't arrive, McGuire would have to assume that his messenger didn't make it to Proptor. With no relief coming, he'd be left with no choice but to surrender.

"Englishman! Come out or we come in!" one of the Saderans shouted in broken English. Where the man learned to speak English, McGuire did not know. What he did know was that he needed a better teacher.

"The answer hasn't changed, Saderan! We aren't opening that door!" McGuire shouted back, grabbing his rifle from the wall. "And I'm not English; I'm fucking Irish!"

"We are an English regiment though," one of his men piped up.

McGuire glared at the man. "Shut the fuck up, Harvey."

There was a short moment of silence as the Saderan on the other side of the door translated McGuire's response. A brief exchange in Latin occurred before the Saderan yelled, "Irishman! We come in now!"

"Just fucking try it," McGuire muttered while fixing his bayonet to the barrel of his rifle. "Oi, Harvey! Get your rifle and wake Gillis up, they're going to try and bash down that door!"

Harvey looked back with uncertainty in his eyes. "Should we really be fighting them? Wouldn't it just be better if we surrendered before we have to shoot someone?"

"Shut your goddamn mouth, Harvey! Do you want to get executed by these primitive fucks?! Our reinforcements will be here any moment now; we just need to hold out until then!" The distinct sound of a battering ram began to ring out through the embassy. "At least I hope they will…"

* * *

Sadera, the capital of the Empire and biggest city in Falmart, was far more impressive than Jack had expected. He could only see it from a distance, they were still riding towards it, but the city certainly had a splendor about it; he'd never seen anything like it. Proptor couldn't compare to the massive size of Sadera, and while London was bigger it didn't look anywhere near as clean or beautiful. Jack was thoroughly impressed.

Bryant, ever the skeptic, was less impressed than Jack was. It seemed that Sadera hadn't captured his awe the same way it had for the captain. Instead, his attention was more focused on trying not to strangle the troop's new lieutenant.

"Sir," Bryant muttered as he rode closer to Jack. "Are you sure we have to bring the brat along?"

Jack shook his head in reply, prompting Bryant to grumble and fall back into formation.

The man in question, Lieutenant Duncan Burton, was most definitely not a welcomed addition to the troop. In truth, to call Duncan a man was an exaggeration; he was little more than a boy, fresh out of the academy and eager for glory. Jack knew the type, he'd dealt with several overzealous officers while stationed in India, but so far Jack had managed to avoid having to actually work with one.

Duncan's flaw wasn't just being over eager, though; Jack could deal with that in time. The true problem with Jack's new lieutenant was that the man was both arrogant and incompetent. This combination meant that Duncan was both incapable of command and incapable of learning. Ultimately he was a liability to the troop, or at least that was Jack's assessment of the man. He'd only known Duncan for a day and was silently hoping his first impression was sorely mistaken.

Jack wouldn't truly know until they'd met with the enemy.

A posh voice abruptly drew his attention, "Sir, might I ask you something?"

There was a brief moment where Jack considered not responding, but ultimately he relented. "Yes, Lieutenant Duncan?"

"We're heading to the Saderan capital to speak with the Saderans, no?" Duncan's tone made Jack irrationally angry; it was like the boy felt he was better than Jack.

"Among other things, yes," Jack replied, gritting his teeth.

"Perhaps, with your permission, I could be the one who leads talks," Duncan offered. "I might be better suited for the role."

Jack and Bryant glanced at each other in partial disbelief. "And why exactly would you be more suited for the role?"

"Because I'm of higher status," Duncan responded as if it was something obvious. "As the nephew of this regiment's colonel, it would be more fitting for me to speak with the Saderans."

"Permission denied," Jack firmly stated. "As the captain of this troop, I will lead all talks and no one else. Is that understood?"

The lieutenant looked dissatisfied but still nodded regardless. "Yes, sir."

Jack examined the boy for a second more before turning to face Bryant. He was about to comment on Duncan's behavior when out of the corner of his eye Jack spotted three riders approaching them.

Holding up his hand to signal the troop to halt, Jack brought out his binoculars and inspected them. He spotted the riders wearing distinctive plate armor and with even more distinctive hair: dark red, pale white, and golden blonde.

"Well ain't that wonderful…" Jack muttered to himself.

Bryant rode up to his side. "Who is it sir? Saderan soldiers?"

Jack shook his head. "Remember those armored women you rescued me from?"

"The beautiful arrogant ones?"

"Aye, those ones," Jack replied. "They're approaching us rather quickly."

"Shall I sound the retreat then, sir?" Bryant offered with a grin.

"Not just yet…" Jack decided. "But be ready to rescue me a second time."

"Not to worry, sir!" Duncan declared, riding up to his side sabre in hand. "Give the order and I'll deal with them!"

"Put your sword away, boy!" Bryant commanded. "They're not our enemies."

Duncan looked to Jack for confirmation before finally sheathing his sword. "Of course; I only meant to display our strength."

Jack was going to respond but the women arrived before he could get a word out. Princess Pina rode at the front with Bozes and another knight he didn't know on either side of her. Both parties trotted forward to greet each other.

"Princess, have you come to capture me again?" Jack asked in Latin. "Or did Bozes pester you to find me again?"

The blonde knight tightened her grip on her horse's reins but remained silent. Princess Pina spoke for the group, "We need you and your men to follow us immediately; there's no time to waste."

Jack glanced behind towards his troops. "And why would that be?"

Pina opened her mouth to reply, but Bozes responded first, "It's your ambassadors; we need to go now!"

Jack suddenly understood the urgency of the situation. "Right… After you then!"

The armored women immediately turned their horses and entered into a gallop towards the city. Jack and his troops followed closely behind.

It only took around five minutes to reach the city while at full gallop. They passed through the gate and rode through the streets of Sadera in a frenzy, forcing pedestrians to move out of the way or be trampled. "Make way!" Jack shouted as he rode by. "Get out of the fucking way!"

Pina led them further into the city down the main road. There was plenty of room for the cavalrymen to maneuver around, and the number of pedestrians gradually decreased the further in they got. They passed through another gate which led them into a much wealthier area of the city, and Jack could now see a massive building atop a hill in the center of the city.

Finally the princess halted before a cottage squeezed between two much larger buildings. Outside the cottage was a mob of Saderan soldiers surrounding it like a pack of feral dogs. Not understanding exactly what was happening, Jack ordered his men to dismount and ran to Princess Pina for more information.

"Your ambassadors are inside the embassy," she stated when he came near. "Last I heard, those soldiers were trying to break in."

Jack nodded and grabbed his revolver in one hand. His men drew carbines from their saddles and followed him as he approached the soldiers. The Saderans noticed the lancers approaching and turned to face them.

"Form a firing line," Jack whispered to Bryant. The man immediately nodded and began shouting orders. Two ranks were formed with carbines pointed towards the Saderans. If need be, the lancers would be able to decimate the soldiers with a volley of rifle fire.

Jack stepped forwards. "Who is your commander?!" he shouted into the mob of soldiers.

A moment passed before one of the soldiers stepped through the crowd and into the open. "That would be me. Who the hell are you?"

"Captain Campbell of the 17th Lancers. I'm here to reinforce the British embassy that you have seen fit to try and break into."

The Saderan snorted. "I've got orders from Emperor Molt himself to seize what's inside that embassy. That's exactly what I intend to do."

Jack surveyed the situation once more. The Saderans numbered roughly the same as his troop did. His men could probably cut down most of them with their carbines, but Jack doubted massacring a detachment of soldiers from a nation Britain was trying to make peace with would make his superiors very happy. He'd have to find a peaceful resolution.

"What is it you want from in there?" Perhaps Jack could appease whatever demands the Saderans had.

The commander looked at him, silently judging something about Jack, before replying, "They've been keeping a stockpile of some sort of magic pipeweed. The Emperor called it 'opium.'"

Jack sharply inhaled. He hadn't known that Britain was already expanding the opium trade to Sadera. "I see… Why won't they give it to you?"

"You Englishmen are stubborn; they've refused every offer we gave them. They think we're going to kill them all."

"Would you?"

The Saderan gave Jack a deadpan stare. "I am not a murderer."

"Fair enough." Jack holstered his pistol and adjusted his pith helmet. "If you let me talk to them then I'm sure I'll be able to convince them to open up."

"Go ahead then."

With a nod of thanks, Jack began to walk towards the cottage. The Saderan soldiers reluctantly let him through their ranks, and Jack approached a battered door than had clearly been reinforced by several heavy objects from the inside. From the other side of the door, he could vaguely hear several men whispering among themselves.

_Best introduce myself then._ Jack cleared his throat before shouting in clear English, "Hello there!"

Immediately the whispers stopped and a deathly silence dominated the area. Jack was content with giving the men time to respond; it was best not to irritate men with guns.

"Is this some sort of trick?" a raspy voice came from the other side. "You don't sound Saderan."

"I'm Captain Jack Campbell of the 17th Lancers," Jack had said that title so many times it was getting tiresome. "My troop is here to relieve you."

"Captain Campbell…" There was a brief pause. "I met you in Zululand!"

Jack smiled; this was going to be a lot easier. "Did I? What's your name?"

"Sergeant Early McGuire, 58th Regiment of Foot, sir. You were looking for one of your men."

"Ah, now I remember; it's good to meet you again. Why don't you open that door so we can properly relieve you?"

Jack could sense some hesitation from the man. "Are you certain the Saderans aren't out for our blood, sir? I'd rather like to keep my head if possible."

"Sergeant, I've got fifty armed men with me; even if the Saderans wanted you dead, I wouldn't let that happen," he reassured.

"A-Alright, sir. We're coming out now." The sound of large objects being pushed aside echoed through the door before finally it swung open. Jack could see McGuire and two other soldiers standing in front of a small group of diplomats.

Smiling, Jack offered a salute to McGuire. "It's good to see you in one piece, sergeant."

McGuire didn't bother to return the salute and instead just stumbled out of the door. "Sir, h-have you got any water?"

* * *

Captain Harrington stood under the scrutiny of General Alford. He couldn't tell if the man was pleased or irritated with him, but Harrington knew that the next few minutes would determine his future career in the navy. Swallowing any fear, Harrington presented himself to the general in the most confident manner he could.

Beside him was his best chance at success. The answer to British scientific breakthrough. The key to Harrington's victory. Yao Haa Dushi.

She hadn't said much ever since they'd set sail and docked at Proptor. Harrington had tried to talk with her on several occasions, but all she had done was answer yes or no and made no attempts to advance the conversation. Despite this, she was more than willing to work with the British in their future efforts and explorations in magic. This was really all he needed from her anyway.

"As acting head of the British Navy in Falmart, you are aware of the political situation in Sadera, correct?" So began the interrogation.

"Of course, general."

"And so you know that Queen Victoria has authorized to sign a treaty of peace between Sadera and Britain, correct?" Alford's glare was drilling through Harrington's skull with intensity alone.

"Correct."

"You are aware that by conspiring against one of the vassals of Sadera it could be considered you committed an act of war, correct?"

The slightest bead of sweat began to form on Harrington's forehead. "In my defense, I was mer-"

Alford didn't let him finish, "Is that a yes or a no?"

"Yes."

"And so by violating the peace treaty without explicit orders from Her Majesty you could be considered a deserter or even a traitor, correct?"

"Right once more, general."

"I hope you've got something to show for this, or you may very well be hanging from the gallows shortly."

Harrington nodded slowly and carefully chose his next words, "On my journey, I met with Lord Borek, ruler of the port city known as Bilek. Thanks to my efforts, he is now allowing for British merchants to trade at his port and is very interested in buying British manufactured goods."

"Would these 'manufactured goods' happen to be weaponry?"

Harrington began to rapidly tap his foot on the ground. "Among other things, yes. Is that a problem?"

"Only if I deem it so, but carry on please."

"Additionally, I have forged a strong friendship with Lord Borek. He trusts me to provide British goods and I trust him to provide a market for British goods. If I continue that relationship, I am very confident that Lord Borek will give us additional benefits."

"And you are confident of this from less than a handful of interactions with him?"

"Yes, I happen to be a good judge of character."

"Of course; continue please."

"Finally, the woman at my side is named Yao Haa Dushi. She's a Dark Elf with a large amount of knowledge of this world. The most important thing about her, however, is her ability and skill in magic." That seemed to get Alford's attention. He leaned closer to Yao and inspected her carefully.

"You have seen her perform magic?"

"Of course."

"Show me."

Harrington nodded to Yao, a signal that he'd practiced with her the night before, and crossed his arms. The general wouldn't be able to deny something that happened before his very eyes.

With a snap of her fingers, Yao ignited a ball of fire hovering just a foot from Alford's head. The general blinked several times before regaining his senses. He observed the ball of flames with hawk-like eyes and reached to feel its warmth.

Another snap caused the ball of fire to disappear into the air.

Silence followed the snap. General Alford's expression remained stone cold, but Harrington could tell his mind was racing to explain what had just happened in front of him. Unfortunately for the general's logical mind, magic couldn't be explained.

"Impressed?" Harrington asked.

The general remained silent for a moment longer before finally replying, "Very much so..." He cleared his throat. "Captain Harrington, I was recently sent a letter asking if the situation in Falmart required a man of higher rank to take over naval operations. Do you know what I will reply?"

"Not at all, general."

"I will tell them yes; I do need a man of higher rank to take charge of our navy." Harrington felt his stomach sink. "I will tell them that I wish for Captain Wiley Harrington to be made an admiral and that he keeps command of naval operations in Falmart.

Relief flooded into Harrington's body. His hard work had paid off, and now his position was firmly in place. "Thank you, general. I'm truly grateful."

"I'm an army officer not a navy officer, so don't get too hopeful yet; they can still reject you if they want."

"Understood, sir." Harrington began to head for the door with Yao.

"Oh and one more thing, captain."

"Yes, sir?"

"Pack your things and select whichever crew you want from the _Lerwick _to join you; as admiral you'll be getting a new flagship."

"Which ship will I be assigned to?"

"_HMS Devastation_."

* * *

So it's been a little while. I had some important exams which I pretty much had to put everything down and study for, but after those exams I tried to write and found myself unable to do it. Part of it was a lack of motivation, I have a new schedule which is pretty busy and trying to write after working all day is pretty hard to do. Another part is that I accidentally deleted the file I had been working on which meant I lost about half a chapter which I had to then rewrite.

However despite all of these things, the biggest thing that's holding me back is a lack of self-confidence. I find myself writing a ton of content only to delete it later because I don't think it's good enough, and I agonize over minute grammar details which slow down the writing process tremendously. I know that all you reviewers say that this story is good and all, but a lot of times I can't convince myself of that. The problem is far worse with Little Green Men which in my opinion is even worse than the flaws in this story and it's probably the number one reason I haven't gone back to it in a while even though I want to continue it. Oh well, I don't know what I'll do about it.

Perseus12: That's an interesting idea. I can say I won't have Mabel Forn in any of the upcoming chapters since I've got those already planned out, but I might add her in the future.

BigBadAud666: Sorry.

Feerzo 14: Thanks for reviewing anyways.

Commander 31: Steam carriages have been around since 1803, but they haven't been used in the military because they're not so good off the road. Maybe some Saderan magic can influence technology in the future, who knows.

Broilerplat: I'm glad you like the story.

7thManiac: I added the naval side because obviously you can't have a story about Britain in the 19th century without their navy, so I'm glad you agree with that decision. While the Royal Sovereign-class isn't created yet, the HMS Devastation has existed for eight years now.


	16. Chapter 16

"I don't know, sir."

Jack frowned. "You have no idea where Lord Burke is?"

Sergeant McGuire took a sip of water before shaking his head. "Burke was out in the market when he got taken, but I wasn't with him." The sergeant breathed in deeply. "He had two of my best men with him…"

"Excuses for incompetence!" Lieutenant Duncan declared. "Lord Burke's safety was your priority, yet you've allowed for him to go missing!" The boy's tone was getting on Jack's nerve, and Bryant appeared behind Duncan to quietly move him away.

"Sir, I can assure you-"

Jack held up his hand silencing the man. "I understand."

McGuire let out a sigh of relief. When Jack had relieved the embassy, McGuire and his men had been on the edge of death. It seemed that he'd arrived just in the nick of time; any longer and they would have started dying of thirst. After drinking not one but two canteens full of water, the sergeant was ready for Jack to question him.

Not that he had answers for any of Jack's inquiries. Lord Burke's whereabouts were still an unsolved mystery. Still, Jack had a mission to do and he wouldn't let his lack of information impede that; he just needed to find another source.

"Sergeant McGuire, do you know Sadera well?" Jack probed.

The sergeant gave a discouraged shrug. "Well enough, sir."

"And you've encountered the local banditry, I presume?"

"Well…"

Bryant caught onto Jack's intention. "The local gangs, where do they like to gather? Pubs? Brothels?" He tended to be more blunt than his captain.

"Akusho," McGuire muttered. "It's the city's slums. There's a tavern just outside the east fountain that they like to gather around."

"Thank you," Jack replied with a smile of reassurance.

Behind them, the Saderan commander tapped his foot impatiently. _Right… the opium. _Jack didn't like to spread the drug; he had seen what it did to those who used it, but he'd promised the Saderans he would get it for them. _I wonder if they've gained an addiction yet._

He decided not to think any further about the matter. "Sergeant, I hear you've got a stockpile of opium. These kind men," Jack gestured to the Saderans who'd less than an hour ago been trying to break down the embassy door, "require said opium."

Sergeant McGuire rubbed his face. "Right, I'll get it for them, sir."

"Excellent. Now, I'm going to find Lord Burke. I will leave my troop here under your command to ensure the embassy's safety; understand?" Jack didn't really believe the embassy would need the extra men, but for what he planned to do, Jack couldn't have fifty men following him around Sadera.

"Thank you, sir."

Jack nodded and spun to face his two lieutenants. "Bryant, I want you and Trooper Galway to come with me. Get everyone else to stay here and help Sergeant McGuire defend the embassy."

Duncan frowned at the order. "Sir, shouldn't I also accompany you? Surely it would be a better fit for a man of my status and skill set."

Jack and Bryant exchanged a glance. Truth be told, Duncan's request wasn't without merit; though, not for the reasons Duncan imagined. If Jack left the boy with the rest of his troop, he wouldn't be able to keep an eye on him; that could result in a disaster for everyone involved. The decision was made: "Alright then, Lieutenant. You'll come with me as well."

A wide smile briefly came over Duncan's face before he adopted his typical arrogant smirk again. _There's hope for you yet…_

"Get the men into order." Jack ordered. His lips formed into a grin. "I've got to talk with our beautiful companions for a moment."

He walked past his lieutenants and toward the three female knights watching him. Jack greeted them with a small bow. "Enjoy the show?" he asked with a hint of humor.

Pina and the white haired knight, whose name he'd yet to learn, rolled their eyes; Bozes became slightly red in the face.

"Find your ambassador?" Pina asked.

Jack shook his head.

Pina nodded in understanding. "Then what shall you do?"

"I've got a plan. It might cause a bit of a disruption, but it's the only plan I've got," he replied, straightening out his uniform.

"And what plan would that be?"

Jack shrugged. "Have you ever been to Akusho?"

* * *

The Rose Knights had, in fact, never been to Akusho. Quite typical of nobility to neglect the poor. Jack couldn't blame them; if he had all the wealth in the world, he wouldn't spend time in a filthy place like Akusho.

By god it was filthy.

Jack had thought London was bad, but this district topped any rat infested slum he'd seen in the British capital. The mud-caked buildings had a fearsome stench that permeated like rotted meat, and rats the size of cats scurried in the shadows. All manners of demi-human creatures lined the street, huddling in fear of the passing cavalrymen. Suffice to say, it was a terrible place. Bryant and Duncan seemed to be equally as disgusted; though, Trooper Galway didn't seem phased.

Jack shifted in his horse's saddle. He had a feeling that his coin purse might go missing from his belt if he wasn't careful about it.

In front of him was the east fountain and next to that was what looked to be a rundown tavern, just where McGuire had said it would be. Jack signalled for his men to dismount with him; the Rose Knights did the same. He had a plan, or at least the outline of a plan, which he hoped would work.

"Galway, watch our horses and make sure no one runs off with them. Everyone else, with me."

They approached the tavern and stood just outside the door. Jack didn't like what he was about to do, but it was the only way he'd get the information he needed. Criminals understood only one thing: force. He needed to apply that force to find Lord Burke. It wasn't like he'd be able to just ask them nicely.

Still, Jack didn't like the excitement he was feeling.

He took in a deep breath and drew his pistol from its holster. _Six rounds then I'll only have my sword._ He made sure each chamber was loaded properly then checked his cavalry sabre to make sure it was still sharp. Bryant and Duncan mimicked his actions.

Jack took another deep breath. Pistol in hand, he turned to face the tavern entrance. He kicked open the door.

"Everyone on your knees!"

Shocked faces greeted him. A dozen men raised their hands as he entered the room. That wasn't good enough; they were still standing. He fired a shot over their heads.

"I said on your fucking knees!" _Five rounds._

They all began to comply with his request, all but one. He was a tall and burly man with a large sword hanging from his belt, the type of man to confront authority. Jack judged him in a split second.

His revolver jolted in his hand. The man collapsed. _Four rounds._

Those who'd been slow to comply had an immediate shift in attitude. They all dropped to their knees, whimpering in fear. A shred of doubt came into Jack's mind questioning whether he was really justified in what he was about to do. He suppressed that doubt.

"Everyone is to drop their weapons and get against the back wall!" he commanded.

Swords and clubs clattered to the ground, and the men hurried to face the wall. They were scared. _Good_. He had control over the situation.

"I do not want to kill any of you," Jack stated firmly. "But I will not hesitate if I don't get the information I need."

One of the men turned to look at Jack. "We don't know any-" Jack hit the man with his pistol.

"Did I ask you a question yet?!"

"N-no…" he gasped.

"Then get against the damned wall!" Jack waited until the man had complied before continuing, "I need to know the location of a man named Lord Webster Burke. You fine gentlemen are going to tell me where he is."

"I don't know…" A man in a green tunic whimpered.

"You don't know, huh?" Jack let out a long sigh. "I don't believe you." He grabbed the man by the back of his collar. "Duncan, Bryant, make sure the rest of them don't go anywhere. I'm going to have a private talk with this one."

He roughly dragged the man into a small side room and shut the door. Pina and Bozes watched with wide eyes. This was a side of him they'd not seen before.

"P-please... " The man's eyes started to tear up. "I've n-never heard of a Lord Burke…"

Jack nodded slowly before shoving the man onto the ground. "Alright, I believe you." He held his gun into the air. It jolted in his hand. _Three rounds._

"Stay still and be quiet, or the next shot will be for real," he whispered in the man's ear.

The man silently cried as Jack exited the room. He nodded to Bryant; they'd done this routine before. Duncan on the other hand was visibly shocked. "D-Did you just…?"

Jack held up his hand, silencing the boy. He turned to address the remaining men. "It appears that another patron has died." He went silent to let it sink in. "May he rest in peace, amen."

"You bastard!" One of the men on the wall tried to charge at Jack. He shot the man through the chest. _Two rounds._

"Does anyone else want to try that?!" Jack scanned the wall for any more rebellious souls. "No? Then I need you to start telling me where Lord Burke is!"

A short man began to sob. "Please… I-I have a family."

"Do you now?" Jack mockingly asked. "So does Lord Burke, but he's not here to complain about it!"

"I-I…"

Jack grabbed the man by his tunic and dragged him from the wall. The man sobbed, but Jack didn't listen and shoved him toward the tavern's exit.

"Run," he whispered.

The man didn't need to be told twice; he sprinted out the door as fast as his legs would carry him. Jack raised his revolver toward the sky and pulled the trigger. The man flinched at the sound but kept running. _One round._

Jack turned back to the other men. "That one didn't even struggle. Who's next?!"

No one spoke up.

He spat onto the ground and strode up to another man. This one was a little fatter than the others and wore a set of strange spectacles. Jack placed his gun to the back of the man's head.

"What can you tell me, hmm? You look like a smart man; I'm sure you know where Lord Burke is."

The man trembled. "I-I am just a scribe. Please sir… I know nothing."

Jack scoffed. "Likely story. You have five seconds to fess up."

"I swear…"

Jack began counting. "Five."

"Please…"

"Four."

A drop of sweat trickled down the man's face.

"Three."

"Emroy save my soul…"

"Two."

"I don't know!"

"One." Jack's finger tightened around the trigger.

"Wait!" another man shouted. "I know where he is!"

Jack removed his pistol from the fat man's head and walked over to his new subject. Behind him, he heard the fat man fall to his knees.

"Where is Lord Burke?" Jack asked simply.

The man muttered a curse. "Bessara has him. He's been keeping Burke as a guest until he can get a ransom for him."

Jack smiled; he was getting somewhere. "Who's Bessara?"

"Have you been living under a rock? He's one of the crime lords of this district."

Jack had assumed as much. "Let's say I have been living under a rock. Where can I find him?"

The man began to laugh maniacally. "You don't need to find him." He took a deep breath of air. "After what you've done here, he'll be the one finding you!"

"Is that so?"

"Yes!" The man shouted. "And when he does, I'll be the one to cut your head from your neck for him! You won't get away with-"

Jack used his last round on the man.

Looking back to the remaining men on the wall, Jack raised his voice. "You're free to go. Tell Bessara that he'll be able to find me in this tavern. I wish to speak with him."

Jack nodded to his lieutenants and they holstered their pistols. The men they'd interrogated, including the one in the side room, fled from the tavern as soon as they did. Jack reloaded his pistol and holstered it.

"Did you have to do it like that?"

He turned to face the disapproving look of Princess Pina. Bozes was behind her, uncertainty plastered across her face.

"It was the fastest and easiest way," he answered simply.

"You tormented them."

"So? Does Sadera not have men who specialize in torture and interrogation?"

"That's different-"

"It's not," he stated with a firm voice. "If anything, what I did was kinder."

Pina could see she wouldn't win an argument with him, so she left the building to check on the horses. Bozes and the other knight followed her.

Duncan approached Jack and gave a shaky salute. "S-Sir, I'll be with Galway and the horses." He rushed off before Jack could respond.

Behind him, Bryant clapped Jack's shoulder. "It had to be done," he reassured. "There wasn't any other way."

"Yes…" Jack agreed. "I've never liked doing this; not in India, not in Zululand, not in Sadera." He tried to convince himself of that fact, but a part of him said that it wasn't true.

"So, we're supposed to wait here until this 'Bessara' shows up?" Bryant asked.

Jack nodded.

"I'll leave you to your thoughts then," he said, exiting the tavern.

Jack watched him go before finding a chair to sit down on. He held out his hands; they were shaking. They were shaking, not because of fear or hatred but because he was excited. He enjoyed the rush he got from kicking in the door. He enjoyed the control his pistol gave him over the men. He enjoyed the killing he did.

_That terrified him._

* * *

I have returned.

At least for a while that is. So for certain reasons I'm pretty much stuck in my home for the next two weeks with limited human contact. Oh well, it gives me a chance to write I guess. It's been a while since I last posted a chapter, but in that time I think I've regained some of my confidence, at least enough confidence to start writing again. I'm not going to return to Little Green Men; I still hate what I've written there. This story on the other hand I think can be salvaged; we'll see how I feel after I return to regular life. For the time being though, I have returned.


	17. Chapter 17

It was several hours before Bessara finally arrived at the tavern. Jack had sat patiently behind one of the tables they'd repositioned. Duncan and Bryant stood at attention next to him. The Rose Knights were hiding in a side room; it would be bad form if the Emperor's daughter was seen negotiating with a crime lord.

The sound of a carriage pulling up to the tavern echoed from outside. Dozens of men were probably surrounding the tavern, prepared to rush in and slaughter the Englishmen; that's what Jack would have done at least.

Jack glanced at his lieutenants and nodded. Both men straightened up and stared directly ahead as if they were trying to pass an inspection. Suppressing any nerves, Jack straightened his posture and fixed his uniform.

They had the elegant blue uniforms of the 17th Lancers and gleaming pith helmets. They had all the grace of proper gentlemen and all the style of Englishmen. They were British officers, and they were ready.

The front door burst open. A large man stepped through, flanked by two armored thugs. He presented an aura of superiority as he entered the room, yet it wasn't arrogance like Duncan had. No, this man wasn't arrogant, but rather he was someone that was used to having power. This was a man that could make a deal when needed; Jack liked that.

"You're either very brave or very stupid to stick around after killing my men," the man grunted as he sat down opposite to Jack. "Probably both."

"Well…" Jack mused. "You're right about that, but I like to leave out the stupid part when in the company of women."

"Smart." The man grinned. "I'm Bessara; I hear you've been looking to speak with me."

"Captain Jack Campbell," Jack replied. "It has come to my attention that you are keeping one of my countrymen captive, and I'm here to collect him. His name is-"

"Lord Webster Burke," Bessara finished.

"So you do have him."

"Of course I do. Did you think I'd come to speak with you if I didn't?"

Jack shrugged.

"You think too little of me," Bessara laughed.

"You are a crime lord."

Bessara rolled his eyes at the statement. "All lords are criminals; the only difference between them and I is the Emperor's blessing." He began to make wide gestures with his hands. "When I take from the poor, it's theft. When they take from the poor, it's taxes! Why is that fair?!"

"That's one way of putting it…" Jack met Bryant's gaze briefly before turning back to the crime lord. "We're getting sidetracked. I need you to bring Lord Burke to me so that he can return to his duties as the British ambassador."

"And I wish to be Emperor of Sadera! Unfortunately, these things are easier said than done." Jack had expected him to say something of that sort. Bessara's charade of politeness was finally coming to an end.

"Lord Burke is an ambassador and subject of Her Majesty The Queen. If he's not returned then I cannot ensure your safety."

Bessara looked unphased. "You brought fifty men into the city, or so my sources tell me. I have over four hundred men, so even with your so-called 'rifles' you won't be able to beat my forces."

"Lord Burke told you of our weapons?" Jack guessed.

The man nodded. "We also retrieved two from Lord Burke's escorts. While they're impressive, they are not the unstoppable force many in Sadera believe them to be."

Jack internally swore. Bessara was right; his troop couldn't take on four hundred men, not in the close confines of a city, and any reinforcements from Proptor would take too long to arrive. He'd underestimated the crime lord's position. _Damn it all._

"I suppose you'll want something from me then?" _Stupid idiot... I should have seen this coming. I could have prepared. If I'd just brought something valuable with me… or maybe brought more men… perhaps the Saderans at the embassy-_

Bessara's voice interrupted his thoughts. "You could pay Lord Burke's ransom."

Jack sighed. "I'm afraid I don't have much money on me." His eyes flashed to the pistol on his belt. They could kill Bessara easily, but he didn't know if they would be able to fight all of Bessara's men. _Six rounds. Three to kill Bessara and the men next to him. Then maybe two dozen outside-_

The crime lord suddenly smiled. "Then I will have to give him to you as a gift."

Jack blinked twice, unsure he'd heard the man correctly. "As a gift? For free?"

Bessara nodded. "You seem to be an honorable man. I'm sure you'll be able to return the favor eventually."

"You're certain about this?" It seemed too good to be true.

"You're a soldier."

Jack gave a nod of affirmation.

"Soldiers, in my experience, have limited experience in politics. You know how to negotiate a treaty with a defeated enemy and how to act properly when negotiating said treaty, but when it comes to the real politicking you're clueless."

"And you know better?" Jack asked with skepticism.

Bessara shrugged and replied, "I may not engage on a national scale, but the criminal underworld has its own form of politics." He chuckled to himself. "Regardless, I understand that you and your 'British Empire' are good allies to have."

Jack frowned at his choice of words. "We are not allies."

"Not yet," Bessara remarked. "But I think your superiors will feel differently when they need spies to record what the Emperor is planning or if the senate is considering treason."

"We'll see…" Jack mumbled. This wasn't how he'd planned the meeting to go.

"Yes, we shall. But even if your superiors reject me, there's another benefit to this."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "And what would that be?"

Bessara tilted his head towards the room the Rose Knights were hiding in. "I've just introduced myself to a princess."

An audible curse came from the room, and the door was pushed open. Princess Pina came out of the room with a slightly annoyed look on her face.

Bessara stood from his seat and bowed. "Your royal highness, I am-"

"Save the formalities," she replied with a wave of her hand.

"-pleased to meet you too," he finished.

"You will return the British ambassador to their embassy immediately. Understood?" She was blunt, to the point, and far more put together than Jack was at this point.

"Of course, your high-"

She held up her hand. "That is all. We shall be leaving now."

Jack barely understood what had just happened, but he followed her out the door regardless. He may not have been a politician but Pina certainly was.

* * *

_Admiral Harrington. It's a good title._ His admiral's uniform was a snug fit, and the new sword at his side provided the final touches to his air of authority. He was an admiral, and he had command over one of the finest ships in the British Navy.

_HMS Devastation_

Four RML 12-inch 35-ton guns mounted in two massive armored turrets provided more firepower and flexibility than he'd ever commanded. Its four steam engines provided the propulsion necessary to go anywhere he pleased, and unlike other ships, it was entirely unreliant of wind power. Mastless, turreted, and heavily armored, it was one of the most modern ships in the Royal Navy's arsenal.

And Harrington was in command of it.

As he stood on the ship's bow, he had a sudden urge to test out the guns. Harrington couldn't do that of course, he was stationed in Proptor and they'd already bombarded the city once, but he nonetheless felt a great need to unleash the ship's power on something.

Harrington shook his head at the thought. _Maybe another day._

For the time being, he had very little to do. With most engagements with the Empire occuring on land now, the Royal Navy had been relegated to simply being a show of power. That meant sitting anchored outside of Proptor and meeting with local administrators every once in a while, boring work that Harrington despised.

There weren't even any smugglers or pirates to deal with because civilian trade ships still weren't authorized to enter the gate, meaning the pirates had no ships to steal from, and the smugglers were too damned scared to challenge the Royal Navy. Hopefully that would change soon. The world was well aware of the existence of this new world and it was only a matter of time before the British government caved to business interests and allowed trade ships through.

British ships would surely be the first ones to do business, but Harrington wondered how long it would be until foreign nations demanded the ability to enter Falmart. The French would surely demand it then the Germans and the Americans until eventually every major nation in the world had access to Falmart. It would be China all over again.

Britain had hegemonial power over Falmart for the time being, but for how many years would that last? Harrington had no answers. All he had were ambitions and aspirations for both himself and his country.

* * *

Lord Burke smiled as he stepped back into the British embassy. He was free at last.

The crime lord Bessara had provided him with adequate lodgings while he was a "guest" for the man, but there was something fantastic about being a free man. He felt a little bad for the Saderan slaves who were eternal captives of their masters. There wasn't any time to think about that though; now that he was back, Lord Burke had a lot of work to do.

His first problem was the narrowly avoided conflict between his embassy staff and the Emperor Molt's soldiers. It seemed that the Emperor had run out of opium and Sergeant McGuire, lacking any orders, refused to open the embassy doors to him. That had been Burke's fault, partially. He should have prepared a contingency for if he disappeared, and part of that contingency should have been orders to keep providing Molt with as much opium as he needed.

Still, the conflict didn't escalate, mostly thanks to the actions of Captain Campbell and his cavalrymen, and now Burke just needed to handle the fallout. He'd already ordered for regular opium shipments to continue to Molt and he was going to request more opium be sent from Proptor. Hopefully this would quench the Emperor's thirst for the drug.

There was a benefit from this fiasco, however. Emperor Molt's reaction to the loss of his opium supply had been servere; that meant the Emperor had developed some type of addiction. Lord Burke's control over the Emperor would be almost absolute because of this. He just needed control over Prince Zorzal and the senate now.

That brought him to his second objective, influencing the prince. Burke's plan to befriend Zorzal had been interrupted by his sudden kidnapping, and now Zorzal was almost ready to set out on his war against the so-called "Warrior Bunnies" with twelve thousand freshly gathered soldiers. The plan needed to be modified.

Lord Burke had initially intended for a regiment of British soldiers to accompany Zorzal, enough men to ensure Zorzal had victory no matter what happened, but now that seemed infeasible. The Prince was impatient, so Burke couldn't wait for a regiment to arrive from Proptor; he had to provide Zorzal with soldiers immediately.

Fortunately, Lord Burke had fifty cavalrymen at his disposal, Captain Jack Campbell's troop. Hopefully it would be enough to win Zorzal's favor. He decided to write Captain Campbell's order immediately.

* * *

_You and your troopers are to join with Prince Zorzal and his two legions in their conquest of the Warrior Bunny Kingdom. This task is designed to gain the favorable opinion of said prince. You will remain with Prince Zorzal until either his campaign has finished or you receive new orders. -Lord Webster Burke, Representative of Her Majesty's Government in Sadera._

Jack read over the message three times before he fully comprehended what it was saying. They were going to fight alongside the Saderans. _Why the hell are we doing that?_

"Bryant!" he called the lieutenant over to him. "Read this for me."

"New orders?" Bryant questioned.

Jack nodded slowly. "Aye… read it."

Bryant's eyes scanned over the piece of paper several times. Each time, his face grew more concerned. "We're fighting with the Saderans?"

"Aye." Jack nodded.

"And we're going to fight these… 'Warrior Bunnies' on behalf of them?"

Jack inhaled sharply. "That's what our orders are."

Bryant handed back the piece of paper. "Who the fuck decided that was a good idea?"

The captain pursed his lips. "Lord Burke, the man we just rescued from Akusho."

"Well that's one hell of a way to express his gratitude…" Bryant muttered. "Are you certain we have to follow his orders?"

"I don't see any way out of it."

"Lord Burke's an ambassador, right? He's not an officer; he doesn't have the ability to give us orders." Bryant protested.

Jack shook his head. "I wish that were the case, but Major Penn put us under Burke's authority when he assigned us on this mission. If we don't listen, we'll be court martialed."

Bryant slowly exhaled. "We're royally fucked then, aren't we?"

Jack shrugged. "Not much we can do. We'll just have to hope that this 'Prince Zorzal' doesn't have it out for us."

"What do we know about Zorzal anyway? He some kind of famous general?"

Jack shrugged a second time. "All I know is that he's a prince. Princess Pina probably knows more about him." He looked over to where the Rose Knights were sitting. "I'll try and ask her."

Bryant sighed, and Jack walked to the Rose Knights. It seemed that they had elected to neglect any official duties they had in order to be with Jack's troop.

"Captain," Pina greeted. Bozes and the other knight, who he'd learned was named Panache, echoed the princess' greeting.

Jack decided to be direct. "Who is Prince Zorzal?"

The women looked at each other before Pina replied, "My brother, the crown prince. Why do you ask?"

"I've just been ordered to have my men join his army and follow him in his campaign against the Warrior Bunnies." The more Jack said it aloud, the more ridiculous the orders sounded.

Pina blinked several times before responding, "My brother can be difficult and foolhardy; I suggest you exercise caution when dealing with him."

"Is he at least competent?"

Pina shook her head. _Wonderful…_

"I need to prepare my men then," he muttered while turning away.

"Wait!"

Jack looked over his shoulder and saw Bozes walking after him.

"I'm coming with you," she declared.

He halted his movement and turned to face her. She had an eagerness in her eye that Jack knew meant nothing he said would dissuade her. Jack discreetly glanced at Pina for approval. She nodded in confirmation.

"Fine. We'll need a skilled warrior, and you'll be sure to liven the mood while we're on the march. Get your kit together and be ready to ride." Though he didn't let it show, Jack was excited at the prospect of having Bozes with them.

Bozes nodded. "Right, I'll get to it."

* * *

This is a bit of an in between chapter before I can get back to the action so sorry if it's a little boring. Also I surprised myself with the pace I wrote at this time, so don't expect a chapter every day.

Assistant Elite General Matteo: You have an amazing username. I don't think I renamed myself or any of my character though.

hellisonfire345: I'm glad to be back. And yeah, I understand that many people enjoyed Little Green Men, but honestly I couldn't bear to write it any longer.

Booksavior69: Thank you.

WarGlory: Thank you, I'm glad to be back. Ultimately one of the biggest things about Little Green Men I couldn't overcome was that the original plot I'd imagined for the story was kind of terrible but it's too far in to change the plot without massive rewrites.

Guest: It's alive!

MKOfficial357: Thanks! Don't worry, I don't think I have the virus. I'm just quarantined because someone I know tested positive and I don't want to risk spreading it if I do have it. Also my university went online so that made it easier.


	18. Chapter 18

The sun beat down on the British cavalrymen. They were marching with Prince Zorzal's army, and it seemed that the further they marched the less kind the weather became. Jack wiped a bead of sweat off his brow; even Africa hadn't been this bad. It was so bad that he almost missed the cold and dreary English weather he'd grown up with.

It had been just over three weeks since they'd departed from Sadera on their campaign to conquer the Warrior Bunnies, and in that time, Jack had come to appreciate the discipline of his troopers. They moved in perfect file, taking their place near the center of the Saderan marching formation. Sure, they complained, but none of them fell out of line or disobeyed orders; Jack was glad to have them with him.

The same could not be said for their Saderan "allies."

As they marched through Falmart, it became increasingly evident that the Saderans accompanying them were not of the same quality as the ones they had fought at the Battle of Dragonscale. Quite the opposite in fact.

At Dragonscale, the Saderan infantry had marched through a hail of artillery shells, rifle volleys, and gatling gun fire before finally breaking. Here, the Saderan infantry could hardly march through an open plain. The Saderan knights that had held a well disciplined formation in spite of British rifle fire at Dragonscale were nowhere to be seen, and in their place were a couple hundred boys in armor who couldn't even seem to keep their horses under control. Jack had spoken to a few of them; most were younger than sixteen, and all of them were freshly recruited. The Saderan Army was in a sorry state of affairs.

It wasn't their fault, though. The British Army was probably mostly to blame for their lack of experienced soldiers. Now that was coming to bite them in the arse, and Jack's men were the only experienced soldiers in the entire army. _Just wonderful._

That wasn't the worst of their problems either. Poor troop quality could be overcome through good leadership and proper planning. Unfortunately, they seemed to have neither of those two things; instead, they got Zorzal. Prince Zorzal styled himself to be some kind of Napoleon type figure, but the prince had none of the attributes of a good general. He was brash, arrogant, naive, and worst of all he was incapable of taking criticism. Most of those traits could normally be solved through the harsh reality of battle, but his inability to accept he was at fault for anything meant that Zorzal would never improve himself. He was everything Jack despised in a leader.

The man was either so incompetent or so arrogant that he hadn't even bothered to send scouts out ahead of the main column. Jack himself had volunteered, but the prince refused to send him. Jack didn't even try to understand Zorzal's thinking on that matter; it was sure to be devoid of logic anyway.

His horse grumbled under him as if he'd read Jack's mind. He stared at the animal, a large mare with chestnut brown hair. This horse had been with him since the Battle of Ulundi, when his previous horse had taken a wound while they were pursuing the fleeing Zulus and had to be retired.

_Maybe I should give her a name?_

Jack had never given any of his horses names; he found they never stuck around long enough for it. In India, he'd had three different horses who'd all had to be retired for various reasons, so he never got attached to any single horse like other cavalrymen did.

"What's a good name for a horse?" he asked out loud.

Bryant, who'd been riding next to him, snorted a laugh. "You're that bored, are you?"

Jack ignored his lieutenant. "Maybe I'll call her Jack."

His lieutenant snorted again. "You're going to name your horse after yourself?"

"Maybe not a great idea…" Jack conceded.

There was a moment of silence before Bryant spoke up. "Buttercup?"

Jack shook his head. "Too common." He took off his helmet to scratch his head. "Romeo?"

"You've got a mare, not a stallion. She needs a girl's name." Bryant replied.

"Juliet then?"

"Maybe less Shakespearian."

Bozes suddenly came riding up to them. Jack admired the way she was able to ride in full plate armor without even a drop of sweat on her face, especially in this heat. In broken English she asked, "Horse you name, yes?"

"Yes…" Jack responded, confused. "Where'd you learn English?"

Her face contorted as she struggled to find the correct words. "Man, Galway, teach when travel."

"Stick with your native tongue for the time being," Jack told her in Latin.

Bozes followed his advice. "How about you name your horse Maria?"

"What'd she say?" Bryant asked.

"She recommended I name my horse Maria," Jack relayed.

"Good name," Bryant grunted. "Better than anything we'll come up with."

Jack smiled at Bozes. "Maria it is."

Her face flushed.

* * *

At the head of the army, Lieutenant Duncan Burton rode his horse next to Prince Zorzal. His uncle, Colonel Burton, had put his trust into Duncan's ability to do well, and Duncan didn't intend to disappoint him. After all, Duncan owed his uncle a debt for saving his career after he'd nearly flunked out of the Royal Military College.

It hadn't been his fault; the senior officers didn't respect his status or his family's influence, so naturally he tried to teach them. That had apparently ruffled someone's feathers and he was kicked out for "disobedient behavior," as if he were some common soldier. His uncle fortunately managed to ensure he made it through, and now Duncan was determined to repay the favor.

Part of that was by becoming allies with Prince Zorzal. Fortunately, he'd not forgotten his Latin from school.

"Why do we need a senate?!" Zorzal vented while shaking his fist into the air. "It's just a way for the commoners to try and exercise some measure of authority over _their_ _emperor!_"

Duncan nodded. "I completely agree! In my country, we have a terrible institution known as the House of Commons which does nothing but impede the power of Her Majesty."

Zorzal grinned. "Everyone has a place in life, and commoners need to understand that they have their place at the bottom. Men like you and I have families that have been in power for hundreds, even thousands, of years; it just doesn't make sense for a commoner to try and rule."

"Your logic is hard to deny," Duncan replied. "In my world, there's this fellow named Darwin who observed something called 'natural selection' among animals where only the best manage to survive. I believe this principle can be applied to humans as well. After all, the nobility clearly are superior to the commoners."

"You're very intelligent." Zorzal said as he clapped Duncan's shoulder. "It's a good thing I have you with me in this conquest."

"It'll be my first time conquering savages," Duncan admitted, "But the men I'm with have just finished defeating the barbaric Zulu kingdom. I imagine this'll be a cakewalk for us."

Zorzal smiled again. "That it will, my friend."

* * *

As the army marched on, Bryant stretched in his saddle and let out a yawn. He gazed at the hilly plains that surrounded them. "How much further do you think it'll be until we reach the 'Warrior Bunnies' we're supposed to be conquering?"

Jack shrugged. "We've been marching for a long time now. I can't imagine that-"

The Saderans in front of Jack's troop suddenly stopped. His newly named horse, Maria, reared back to prevent them from trampling the men.

Jack patted Maria to calm her before urging her to move up to the Saderan soldiers. As he came to the front, Jack spotted the problem; one the the soldiers had collapsed onto the ground, probably from exhaustion. The other soldiers looked to be at loss of what to do.

"Give him some water then put him onto one of the supply wagons. Do it quickly," Jack commanded, taking the initiative.

The Saderans began to do as he ordered, but a deep voice suddenly stopped them. "What do you think you're doing with my men, otherworlder?"

Jack turned to face the voice. "Prince Zorzal," he greeted with a small bow. It was polite to do such things with royalty, even if he despised the man.

The prince had ridden from the front of the column. Duncan was at his side. "I asked you a question, otherworlder."

"I was just fixing a problem, your highness," Jack replied through gritted teeth.

Zorzal scoffed at that. "I don't recall giving you authority to command my soldiers." He looked at the men who were helping their fallen comrade. "Stop what you are doing immediately or I will have you executed for treason!"

The Saderans hesitated for a moment before leaving the man on the ground.

Jack tried his best to hide his disapproval. "Your highness, I was simply suggesting to them that they should help their fellow soldier so that we might resume our march as soon as possible."

"I don't need you to order my men around, otherworlder. They will do as I command!"

"Then what is your command?!" Jack snapped. "Your highness," he hastily added on.

Silence filled the air. Zorzal's face went through multiple stages of anger. Every soldier near them was staring at the two and their dispute. Jack held his gaze on the prince.

Zorzal looked to Duncan, but the man didn't say a word. He looked to the Saderan soldiers; they also refused to speak up. Zorzal's glare finally rested upon the soldier who'd fallen, and he muttered something inaudible.

The Saderan soldiers looked uncertain. "Your highness, could you repeat-"

"Leave him behind!" Zorzal snarled.

"Y-your highness, I d-don't think that's a good i-idea…" one of the soldiers stammered out.

Zorzal growled like a cornered dog. "Did I ask for your opinion?!"

"N-No-"

"Then be quiet!" The prince took a deep breath. "I am Crown Prince Zorzal El Caesar, son of Emperor Molt Sol Augustus, and the next ruler of the Empire," he spat out. "You will not question me or my commands!"

Jack could feel resentment growing around him; the Saderan soldiers weren't as loyal as Zorzal probably expected them to be. It wouldn't take much to push them over the edge. _This is why you don't let fools lead men._

One of the Saderans walked up to Zorzal with his sword drawn. The prince didn't seem to realize what was coming; Jack prepared himself for the worst. Zorzal stared down the soldier he opened his mouth to-

"Enemies ahead!" The shout came from further up the column.

Zorzal's anger melted away. "What? That can't-"

Three dozen arrows landed amongst the Saderan soldiers, silencing Zorzal's protests. The prince stared blankly at the bodies doing nothing to address the enemy attack. Fortunately, one of the Saderan officers had the sense to take command.

"Form ranks!" he shouted over the screams of wounded men. "Form ranks, damn you!"

It was too little and too late.

Their adversaries moved too quickly and with too much brutality. Saderan soldiers tried to get into battle formations, but the enemy refused to allow them to do so.

They broke through the poorly assembled shield walls, not bothering to make formations of their own, and soon the battle had devolved into an unorganized melee. The Saderans were losing.

Jack didn't intend to die because of Zorzal's failure to command. "Follow me!" he shouted to his troopers. "With me!"

He rode as hard as Maria would ride, and the cavalrymen followed him, trying to match his pace.

Jack trampled one of the enemy warriors with his horse as he fought to break free of the melee that was around them. There was no order or discipline to what went on around him; it was a chaotic mess. It was the opposite of what a battle should look like.

A man had his belly cut open. Two Saderans pinned an enemy down and cut their throat. Someone's head was severed from their neck. The lancers kept riding.

Then they broke free.

Jack's cavalrymen escaped from the chaos and reached the open plain. Behind them, the Saderans were still fighting and dying. Jack had half a mind to order a withdrawal. _Fuck them! Save your own men; they're not worth it._

A small part of his mind realized Bozes wasn't with them. He cursed himself as he turned Maria to face the battle._ Idiot._

The chaotic melee was disappearing. Battle lines had started to form as the Saderans finally managed to rally together. They'd formed into a block of men with the enemy surrounding them on three sides.

The Saderans had 12,000 men, but they were in a marching column, and only a small portion of them were able to respond to the attack. The Saderans were still losing. Decisive action was needed.

Jack briefly considered his options.

Carbines wouldn't work; they couldn't provide the shock needed to turn the battle in Jack's favor. Pistols had the same problem. They'd have to rely on a charge then.

Jack spurred Maria onwards, leading the rest of his men behind him. Their horses provided the mobility that allowed them to quickly redeploy and form up behind the enemy battleline.

Jack grabbed his lance from his stirrup. "Ready lances!" His voice boomed over the sound of battle.

_God save us. God save the Queen._

"Forward!"

The troop's bugler relayed the order, and all at once they began to move forward. It was slow at first, but then they picked up speed. The enemy came ever closer, and Jack steadied his breathing.

_God save us. God save the Queen._

He considered turning back. It was fifty horsemen against god who knows how many enemy warriors. They kept riding.

_God save us. God save the Queen._

Maria was at full gallop now. Jack tilted the tip of his lance forward.

"God save the Queen!" he shouted.

His men echoed him, **"God save the Queen!"**

The lancers smashed into their opponents' backs. They ripped through the horde and killed dozens. For a few precious moments, they were invincible.

Steel met flesh, and horses impacted warriors. Lances got stuck in bodies, so men began drawing sabres. The cavalry stopped for nothing.

An enemy was at Jack's side; his sabre fell onto their collarbone. Someone tried to spear his horse. Jack opened their throat with cold steel.

And so on and so forth. They kept charging through like a scythe through a field of wheat. Nothing impeded them.

It felt like it took hours, it was probably only seconds, but eventually their charge began to slow. Like a wagon moving through mud, they lost momentum. The glorious feeling of invincibility waned, and their opponents began to retaliate.

"Fall back!" Jack's order came before any of his men died. The bugler managed to sound it, and every lancer retreated through the bloody path they'd managed to clear.

Every lancer except Jack.

Too concerned with his men's wellbeing, Jack didn't start to retreat until he was sure no one would be left behind. But by then it was too late. The path they'd rode through was closing; Jack tried to make it through, but someone dragged him off his horse. Jack watched Maria bolt after the other lancers while he fell.

The ground hit him. He groaned.

His sabre suddenly lashed out, striking the warrior who'd pulled him off Maria. Adrenaline pumped through his body. Jack forced himself to his feet.

An enemy charged him. They were fast, agile, and entirely inhuman; Jack only barely managed to parry the swing sent at him.

_Don't fight an opponent where they're strong._

Using his sabre would be risky; his opponent was too quick for him. Fortunately, Jack didn't need to rely on that. He drew his pistol in his free hand.

The warrior swung at him twice more. He managed to stop the first swing with his sword, but the second left a light wound on his torso.

Another swing came at him. He parried the blow and drew his sabre back for a thrust to her chest. His adversary spotted this, jumped back, and prepared to deflect the blow.

Jack's pistol jolted three times. The warrior died.

There was no time to celebrate; Jack was surrounded by hostile warriors. Fortunately, most of them weren't paying attention to the single lancer in the midst of their ranks.

He used the remaining three bullets in his pistol to gun down two other warriors. With no opportunity to reload, he holstered his empty pistol. It was just him and his sword now.

A hand touched his shoulder.

Jack turned and swung his sabre, intending to lop the hand off of its owner. The swing was stopped by the owner's sword, and he was roughly pulled into an embrace. He found himself gazing into the beautiful face of Bozes Co Palesti.

Jack tried to think of something clever to say.

"You..."

Bozes shoved him off of her. "Keep fighting!"

Any thoughts besides the battle quickly left his mind. He wasn't surrounded anymore; that was good. Jack lost track of where Bozes went.

A blade flashed at his face. Jack's response was too late to stop it, but he did manage to deflect the blade. What would have been a killing blow turned into a deep cut on his cheek.

Jack hastily adopted a stance and faced the warrior who'd cut him.

"You're not from the Empire," the warrior stated, allowing them both a moment of respite.

"No…" Jack responded in between heavy breaths.

For the first time, he was allowed a moment to actually examine his foe. The warrior was a woman, that was his first surprise, and she had giant furry ears coming out of her head, that was the second. In fact, he started to notice that every enemy warrior had giant furry ears.

"You're the Warrior Bunnies," he pieced together.

"I thought that was rather obvious," she said with a laugh. "My name is Delilah; I want you to know that before I kill you."

Jack raised an eyebrow at that but responded, "Captain Jack Campbell, a pleasure to meet you."

"I'll make your death quick," she hissed while baring her teeth.

Jack was given less than a split second to prepare before she dashed toward him, sword swinging.

Their swords crossed briefly, and Jack shuffled back to gain some breathing room. He raised his guard, ready for the next swing.

Delilah's short blade lashed out again, but Jack batted it to the side. He quickly retorted with a swing at her hand; the blade impacted and Delilah received a nasty gash.

That should have ended the fight. Instead, she snarled like a wild animal and swapped her sword grip to her left hand.

Jack didn't want to see if her left hand was as good as her right, so he decided to take the initiative.

He sent a cut at Delilah's head. She parried it with ease. His second swing aimed low at her legs; that was also blocked. Unphased, he sent a third strike at her, and Delilah was just a heartbeat too slow.

Jack's sabre caught her at the stomach.

Delilah wore no armor on her stomach, not even a scrap of cloth, and as a result the wound that Jack's strike left behind was much worse than it should have been. Jack knew from experience that she needed to get medical help soon, or she'd bleed out.

Still, she showed no signs of backing down. In fact, she just looked more angry.

Delilah raised her blade and prepared to jump at Jack. He knew a storm of attacks was about to be sent his way, so he moved into a defensive stance.

She came at him like a bullet.

A thrust to his head, a cut to his shoulder, a swing at his torso, a slash to his arm, and a kick to his knee were all sent his way in the span of three seconds. Jack managed to defend the first two, but then she got through his guard and landed everything else.

He stumbled back, awed and in pain at the speed she possessed. Jack raised his guard again, trying to prepare himself for the second onslaught. Delilah hefted up her-

"**God save the Queen!"**

The 17th Lancers charged into the enemy battleline a second time.

Like a hot knife through butter, they cut a path into the opposing warriors. Cavalry was truly a terrifying weapon. Screams sounded out, and warriors died under the hooves of horses.

Amongst the ranks of the Warrior Bunnies, the seeds of doubt had been planted.

They had sustained too many casualties, and the Saderans were gaining more numbers as men from the mid and back columns joined the battlefield. Soon enough, they'd be so outnumbered that even their superior skill couldn't make up for it.

The second charge from the lancers was the nail in the coffin. Panic spread throughout their line, and the Warrior Bunnies began to retreat. Delilah and Jack still faced each other, but the Warrior Bunny had backed off from him.

"You should fall back; that wound on your stomach will kill you if you're not careful," Jack warned.

She hissed at him. "I'll remember you, Captain Jack Campbell."

Jack frowned; he wasn't keen on making mortal enemies. "For my sake, I hope we never meet again."

"We shall see…" Delilah replied. With their short exchange over, she ran after her fellow warriors.

Jack watched her go before finally falling to his knees. His entire body ached with pain. They had won, but not without cost. Bodies were littered around him, and blood soaked the ground red.

Human corpses far outnumbered the nonhuman ones.

_This slaughter could have been avoided…_

_If Zorzal had done something…_

_If I had done something..._

At some point, Bozes found him kneeling there on the battlefield. As she helped him up, Jack decided that life was far too short to beat around the bush. It wasn't worth waiting when he could die in an instant.

He planted his lips firmly on hers.

* * *

This was a long one, but I didn't feel like I had enough to split this into two chapters, so I just decided to keep it together.

Assistant Elite General Matteo: You're welcome.

Perseus12: We'll just have to see about all that.

Dandaman5: I'm not sure about that. It's been a possibility in the back of my mind ever since a started writing this, but I'm not sure how I'd figure them into what I have planned.

WarGlory: British steel and shot just faced off; I hope it met your expectations.

xjamesx70: Expect more tension between them.

hellisonfire345: We'll see about that possibility...

Papon777: Thank you.


	19. Chapter 19

Reports had come in from Zorzal's army with news on how the campaign was progressing. The scribe who'd written it filled the letters with all sorts of flowery language, embellishment of military action, and assurances of a quick victory, much to Lord Burke's disapproval. It was supposed to be a military report, not a letter of flattery. Regardless, once he'd managed to decipher the message's meaning, one thing became painstakingly clear.

They were losing.

Three weeks into their campaign, Prince Zorzal's army was ambushed by their enemy. The Saderans had claimed victory after forcing the ambushers to retreat, but Burke knew better. They'd lost over two thousand soldiers in that battle, and the enemy dead only numbered three hundred. This campaign wouldn't be an easy victory.

For Burke, and the British in Sadera as a whole, this was very bad. Lord Burke's influence was tied to Emperor Molt's power, and he'd planned everything around being able to control Molt. However, with these recent defeats, the Imperial Senate was losing faith in Molt's power and might even revolt.

That was bad for everyone involved. If the British Empire wished to expand its trade influence to Sadera, they would need a capable, stable, and friendly government in charge.

The problem was that Lord Burke didn't know how he'd ensure that happened. Saderan hegemony over its neighbors was already being challenged, and if things got worse there could be war. Even worse, a certain Admiral Harrington was actually encouraging this by selling weapons to some minor noble named Lord Borek.

Lord Burke would have to exchange some harsh words with the man about British foreign policy in Falmart.

Sadera's control over its vassals and neighbors was supposed to have been secured by a quick conquest demonstrating its military power. Unfortunately, it seemed that conquest would not be quick at all, and all it currently was demonstrating was Saderan incompetence. Prince Zorzal apparently wasn't a very good general.

"What can I do…?" he mused to himself.

Realistically, Lord Burke himself couldn't do much to influence the outcome of Zorzal's campaign; he was a diplomat, not a soldier. However, he did have authority over someone who did have that ability.

Burke had an idea.

He took up a piece of paper and grabbed his pen. The writing instrument was from Birmingham, the world's predominant pen manufacturer, and had served him well throughout the years. Burke may not be a soldier, but he was a damn good diplomat, and his pen gave him the ability to influence men leagues away. The pen was indeed mightier than the sword.

_To Captain Jack Campbell of Her Majesty's Army,_

_I have read many accounts of your brave and heroic actions at the Battle of Dragonscale, your skirmishes with banditry, and of the most recent fighting that took place against the Warrior Bunnies. It is because of these actions that I have placed both my own faith and that of the entire British Empire in you. The Saderan Empire must not lose this war._

_Your mission's objective has changed. Gaining Prince Zorzal's favor is no longer the primary reason for your joining in his campaign. Your new objective is to guide the Saderan forces to victory, no matter what liberties or actions you must take. As of this moment, you are released from the authority of Prince Zorzal and are given independent command of your cavalry troop. I do not care what you do with this newfound liberty, just so long as you use it to win this war._

_Your Empire needs you, captain. Do not fail it._

_-Lord Webster Burke, Representative of Her Majesty's Government in Sadera_

* * *

Jack read the letter at least a dozen times. He was supposed to win the war for the Saderans. _How the fuck does he expect me to do that?_

He put the letter aside and yawned. Grabbing his pith helmet, Jack exited his tent and watched as thousands of men woke up around him. Bryant approached him and handed Jack a cup of hot tea; it was a small blessing on a cold morning.

The army had decided to make camp for a few days while they treated the wounded, and Zorzal decided on a course of action. They'd camp directly in front of a large forest with the road they were following cutting directly through it; Jack figured there was most likely an ambush coming up ahead, so he was thankful Zorzal had the sense to make camp before entering it.

However, Zorzal was still stubborn as ever, and he refused to send scouts into the woods for some unknown reason. The man's lack of foresight had gone beyond annoying; it had become infuriating.

Behind him, Bozes Co Palesti stepped out of Jack's tent and scurried away to put on her armor. Bryant raised an eyebrow at his captain, and Jack shrugged. They both went back to sipping their tea.

"So what's the plan today?" Bryant asked.

Jack yawned, looking over the camp. "More of the same, I suppose."

"No luck with Zorzal so far?"

"No luck indeed." Jack grimaced as he recalled the last time he tried to convince the prince that they needed to send out scouts.

Bryant sighed into the morning air.

"Although… I did receive a message from Lord Burke this morning."

"Let me guess. Orders to wipe Prince Zorzal's arse?"

Jack chuckled while shaking his head. "In light of recent events, I've been granted independent command over our troop."

There was a flash of disbelief over Bryant's face. "You're serious?" Disbelief soon faded to joy. For the first time in days, Bryant gave a genuine smile.

Jack clapped his shoulder and smiled with him. "No more following Prince Zorzal's orders."

Bryant laughed. "I believe our chances of surviving this campaign just increased dramatically."

"Aye…" Jack replied. "If only that were true for the rest of them," he said, gazing at the thousands of Saderan soldiers still under Zorzal's command.

Bryant nodded in agreement. "We'll just have to do what they can't then."

Jack finished his tea and decided he'd spent enough time standing around. "I'll go and see if Zorzal is willing to listen to reason today. Maybe we'll be lucky and the esteemed prince had a good night's rest."

"Maybe we'll be lucky and the prince fell onto his sword in the night…" Bryant muttered.

Jack left his lieutenant behind, and he strode through the Saderan camp. Around him, soldiers greeted him and saluted, even men who were technically of higher rank than he was. Interestingly, they used the open palmed salute of the British Army rather than the traditional Saderan salute.

He saluted them back. The British cavalrymen were rather popular among Saderan troops; their actions had been critical in causing the Warrior Bunnies to retreat, and without them many more Saderan lives would have been lost. Any bad blood between the British and Saderans had quickly evaporated after the battle, and Jack found himself as a hero among the rank and file soldiers.

At the same time, Prince Zorzal was losing favor among the common soldiers. His arrogant nature and harsh punishments meant that Zorzal had never been well liked by his men, but the battle's outcome revealed a harsher and less forgivable sin: Zorzal was incompetent. No man wanted to trust their life to a leader like Zorzal, and there were already whispers of desertion or even mutiny. Jack hoped it wouldn't have to come to that.

"Captain Cap-Bell!" A burly man wearing the garb of a Saderan centurion called to him. His pronunciation of Jack's name was appalling, but he said it with good intentions.

"Centurion Varro," Jack greeted in Latin.

Varro grinned. "On your way to Prince Zorzal's tent?"

"Of course."

"Trying to get him to send scouts into the forest?"

"As always."

"Do you think you'll be successful?"

Jack shook his head.

Varro frowned. "Why try then?"

"Because no one else will," he replied with a shrug.

They stopped just outside Zorzal's tent. Inside, Jack could hear the Prince enjoying the company of several female slaves he'd brought with him.

"I like you, Cap-Bell, and so do my men." Varro disclosed. "We appreciate that you try to speak sense to the Prince, but I do not think he will listen."

"Someone has to try," Jack insisted.

Varro was silent for a second. He sighed. "Good luck then."

The centurion left him to face the prince alone. Jack heard Zorzal's activities dying down, so he straightened his uniform and raised his voice just loud enough for him to hear. "Your highness, I have a matter I wish to discuss with you."

"Come in."

Jack ducked into the tent and found himself looking at two naked women, Zorzal's slaves, and the prince himself. He averted his eyes as soon as he was inside.

"What is it you want, outworlder?" he spat out.

Jack did his best to hide his irritation for the man. "Scouts, your highness. It would be in everyone's interests to send out a scouting party and ensure the path is clear. If it pleases you, I can-"

"You've already asked me, outworlder. The answer is no." Zorzal turned away from Jack and focused on the slaves next to him.

"Your highness, there is simply no conceivable reason for us not to-"

Zorzal's head snapped towards Jack. "Why are you still here? I gave you your answer."

Jack's hands tightened into fists. "Your highness, we need to properly understand the terrain and opposition we are about to march-" He was cut off by the giggles of Zorzal and one of his slave girls.

For a brief moment, Jack's hand found itself on the handle of his revolver. The Saderan soldiers wouldn't miss the prince, and they'd have a much easier campaign once command had been transferred to someone else. _Do it you coward. No one will stop you._

He let go of his pistol and instead tried to appeal once more to the prince. "Your highness-" Jack suddenly stopped himself. He didn't need the prince's permission; Lord Burke had released him from Zorzal's authority. "I'll be on my way."

The prince didn't even notice as Jack left his tent.

_ Why didn't I think of that immediately?_

"Bryant!" he called as he got back to where his men were encamped.

The lieutenant rubbed his eyes and put down his breakfast. "Yes, captain?"

"I want the troopers assembled and ready to march within half an hour. No horses, but make sure everyone's got their carbine, pistol, and sabre."

"Yes, sir!" Bryant replied. "What are we doing, sir?"

Jack smiled then he broke into a laugh. "We're going scouting."

Lieutenant Duncan noticed the commotion. "Didn't the prince say that-"

Jack cut him off. "Fuck that, lad! We're doing this on our own accord!" He could see lancers coming out of their tents and watching the exchange. "Everyone off your lazy arses! We've got a job to do!"

* * *

They moved into the forest in a widely spread skirmish line. Each man had their carbine cradled in their arms as they did their best to keep a lookout for enemy patrols. Everyman was on foot; the forest was too thick to be riding through it.

While they typically spent most of their time on horseback, the lancers weren't unaccustomed to fighting on foot; the necessity of the modern age had meant that the days when cavalry were purely cavalry were over. Nowadays, every cavalryman was capable of being an infantryman if the situation necessitated it; thus, why they carried carbines in addition to pistols, sabres, and lances.

Jack led the skirmish line from the front, and his two lieutenants were posted near the flanks. If there was an ambush waiting in this forest, Jack's men would find it.

Fear was very present in the air; there was constant tension from the knowledge that at any moment they could stumble upon an enemy force. When men are scared, they grow tired easily, and Jack's men were no different. Being constantly on alert was an extremely exhausting task, and after thirty minutes of trudging through the brush, Jack's men were tired.

He held his hand into the air, calling for a short rest. Ahead of them he could see a large ridge that impeded their path, it would be even more tiring to climb it, but Jack had no other option.

The lancers drank from their canteens, nibbled on bits of biscuit, and some of the braver men even managed a short nap. It was all in silence; the fear of a hidden enemy weighed on everyone's mind. After ten minutes of rest, they were ready to move again.

It was a grueling hike up the ridge. The further they went up, the steeper it seemed to get, and the harder it was to climb. Towards the top, men were forced to haul themselves from one tree to the next just to make progress. Jack stumbled and fell and as a result he fell behind the main line. He managed to stand himself up and keep going.

A scream came from the top of the ridge, someone's pistol discharged a shot, and one of Jack's men shouted, "For Queen and Country!" Men who'd reached the top began to open fire with their carbines.

Jack suddenly had the energy necessary to sprint up the ridge. He pushed his way through bushes and branches, ignoring the scratches he was gaining and the pain his not quite healed wounds from the previous battle were inflicting on him.

Then he found himself at the top.

A dozen things went through his mind at once. The ridge plateaued into semi flat ground at the top, and an encampment was a couple hundred feet from the edge. At the edge, maybe twenty Warrior Bunnies were fighting his men. Most of the lancers-

A blur of motion came at him. Jack raised his carbine and fired.

The warrior charging at him took the bullet to her stomach, stumbled slightly, and kept charging. _Fuck. Fuck! FUCK!_

Jack was tackled to the ground. His carbine fell from his grip, and the Warrior Bunny brought her sword up to skewer him whole.

He panicked. An uncontrollable desire came over him. A desire not to die.

His arm lashed out and made contact with the warrior. Jack didn't know where he hit, but it caused her to recoil. He grabbed at his belt for something, anything. Something heavy met his grip so he seized it.

Jack's arm lashed out again, this time holding the object. It struck the warrior in her face and allowed him to throw her off him.

He was on his knees now; he scrambled over and pinned the Warrior Bunny down with his weight. Jack raised his arm and brought the object down on her. She was still moving, so he did it again.

And again.

And again.

Finally, she stopped moving.

Jack scrambled away from the dead woman. He realized that the object he'd used to beat her to death with was his canteen; it was cracked and covered in blood. Jack grabbed his carbine off the ground and loaded a new cartridge into it.

The Warrior Bunnies were retreating to their camp. Jack didn't have time for a proper headcount, but he didn't think any of his men had been lost. They needed to push their advantage while they had it. Their foes were disorganized and running away for now, but that could change. Decisiveness was the key here, but at the same time he didn't want to fall into a trap.

"Bryant! Take fifteen of our best shots and have them set an ambush at the bottom of the ridge!"

"Sir-"

"Just do it!" Jack shouted.

Bryant nodded and started collecting men. Jack turned to his remaining lancers.

"They're running, lads! After them!" Jack shouted. He started sprinting after the Warrior Bunnies, the lancers following behind.

At full sprint, they reached the Warrior Bunny encampment in a very short amount of time, and they swept over the camp with a mad fury. Jack saw panicked Warrior Bunnies coming out their tents. They were unprepared to face the charging soldiers, so they got cut down by sword and shot. His men felt unstoppable.

But the further into the camp they charged, the more confidence Jack lost. The camp was large, far larger than Jack had expected. He soon saw that the enemy they were chasing had them far outnumbered. They were only succeeding because the enemy was disorganized and in shock.

He hoped the enemy would stay that way.

* * *

Delilah charged out of her tent in a mad fury. The Saderans and their outworlder mercenaries had surprised her camp and were killing her warriors. That wasn't supposed to happen. She was supposed to be the one who surprised them, not the other way around. Queen Tyuule had trusted her with the ambush, now she was failing.

She couldn't let that happen.

Blade in hand, Delilah leapt at the nearest outworlder and took him to the ground. The man had half a second to register shock before Delilah's short sword severed his neck.

She looked around at the battlefield. Her forces were retreating, and the outworlders were slaughtering them in the process. Their magic staves spat deadly fire, killing from a distance, and their fearsome charge put fear even in Delilah's heart.

Yet, through the chaos around her, Delilah saw that the outworlders only had a few dozen men. A few dozen men were routing her force of more than a hundred warriors. Humans shouldn't have been capable of that.

"We should be winning…" she muttered to no one in particular. Delilah realized what she had to do.

She ran with a fury. As a Warrior Bunny, Delilah could sprint far faster than any human could, and she used every bit of that natural advantage to catch up with her fleeing comrades. Several of the outworlders' magic staves sounded off behind, but none hit her.

"Turn back and fight! Turn back!" Delilah roared at her fellow warriors. "There's less than forty of them!"

It wasn't an immediate thing but rather a trickle. Slowly but steadily, the warriors slowed their retreat. Then, like a great tidal wave, they turned around and charged at the outworlder mercenaries. A hundred proud Warrior Bunnies with sharp steel came barreling down at the Empire's lackeys. They would not be conquered so easily.

* * *

"Fuck…" Jack's fears were materializing in front of him. The enemy had rallied, and now they were charging, outnumbering them almost three to one. Now was not the time for a heroic last stands.

"Fall back! Retreat! Run for the ridge!"

Jack tried to be the last man to fall back; he didn't want to leave anyone behind, but that turned out to be impossible. Some men were simply too slow or too far behind, so they got cut to pieces by the incoming Warrior Bunny charge. He could mourn them later. For now, he needed to run.

He pumped his legs, fear and panic driving them faster than he thought humanly possible. As he reached the ridge, Jack managed to peak a look behind him.

_Bad idea._

Terror gripped his heart; they were gaining on him.

Jack rushed down the hill. His run was more of a panicked stumble than a proper sprint, yet he managed to stay on his feet the entire way down. The enemy charge was coming after him.

A familiar voice sounded out through the woods. Jack's panic riddled mind couldn't figure out how it was familiar, but it was familiar. "Volley fire present!"

He kept running. That was the only thing he could do. Run.

"Aim!"

The Warrior Bunnies were maybe just ten meters behind him now.

"Fire!"

* * *

Delilah had victory in her grasp. The mercenaries were retreating under the force of her warriors. It would be a shallow victory with so many warriors lost, but it would be a victory nonetheless.

They sprinted down the hill with a grace the humans did not possess. Many had been lost in the initial fight, and now each warrior was on a quest for blood; they wanted vengeance. Delilah was no different. She wanted blood too.

Loud cracks suddenly deafened her. It was like a thunderstorm had come out of thin air and unleashed its fury. For several moments, all she heard was a distant ringing.

Then there were screams.

Delilah watched the warriors in front of her drop to the ground, either dead or dying. Their wounded screams shattered the confidence she held just moments ago. The Warrior Bunnies stopped their charge.

Then it happened again.

More loud cracks deafened the air, only to be replaced seconds later with the screams and cries of dying warriors. Delilah saw where the destruction had come from. A group of the mercenaries had hid themselves in the brush, unseen by the charging Warrior Bunnies until it was too late.

They let loose their destruction again.

More screams followed. The outworlders they'd been chasing had begun to turn back and face them; they too let loose their thunderous destruction. Her force of over a hundred warriors was reduced to almost nothing.

_It's not fair. I had won._

The last of her warriors decided to make a final stand. They charged the outworlders with their last remaining strength. They died all the same.

Delilah gazed at her fallen comrades. Nothing made sense. She should have won. Queen Tyuule had assured her that she would win. _Queen Tyuule lied._

_Why am I still alive?_ Did they want her as a slave? Was she some kind of trophy? The captured commander that they would show off to their Saderan masters and receive gold in exchange?

She didn't know.

* * *

Nine men. Jack had lost nine men to the Warrior Bunnies, more men than they'd lost ever since crossing through the Gate. Not even the dragon had killed that many.

Nine men in exchange for a hundred and eleven.

Any other man would have seen it as a great victory. Not Jack. He'd gotten excruciatingly lucky. First when his men managed to completely surprise the Warrior Bunnies in their encampment, and then second when Bryant's ambush had saved them from complete disaster.

This was supposed to be a scouting mission, not an assault on an enemy encampment. He should have ordered a retreat as soon as they'd stumbled on the camp. Instead, he'd lead nine of his men to early graves.

Jack sighed and pushed those thoughts from his head. It wasn't worth agonizing about what had already happened. Instead, he focused on the present. He was entering camp as a hero.

The lancers marched into camp, bloody, beat, and utterly exhausted. Still, Jack didn't dismiss them quite yet. He needed to make a point to Prince Zorzal about the benefits of scouting, and fifty lancers would help him do that.

_Forty one._ He mentally corrected.

Saderan soldiers came out from their tents and began cheering. That did a lot to boost his men's morale; few things were more satisfying than being recognized for your actions. Jack could see his lancers straighten their postures and fix their uniforms as the praise came in.

He arrived at Prince Zorzal's tent. The prince was already outside, having heard the commotion, and he looked at Jack's tired and bloody men with something Jack had never seen the man express. _Admiration?_

Beside him, Bryant put down their prisoner for Zorzal to inspect. Delilah looked like she was ready to butcher every man in camp.

"Well done, captain." Jack blinked; that was the first time Zorzal had addressed him by his rank. "I'm glad the scouting mission_ I _assigned you went well."

Jack wanted to smack the man, but found it wasn't worth the effort in his tired state. Zorzal's arrogant idiocy unfortunately hadn't disappeared as he'd hoped.

The prince inspected Delilah with hungry eyes. "Well done indeed… I think I'll be using her tonight."

Delilah glared daggers into the prince's face.

"You can't do that," Jack protested.

Zorzal looked puzzled. "She's our prisoner. Of course I can."

"She's my prisoner," Jack corrected. "And… I will be using her," he forced out with a grimace.

Delilah shifted her glare to Jack, but she said nothing.

Prince Zorzal's face shifted from confusion to humor. "Ahh… My mistake, captain. I hope you enjoy her."

"I will…" he choked.

* * *

Chapter 19, here we are. It's fun to be back writing things again.

Perseus12: Interesting ideas. God Save the Queen.

hellisonfire345: Thanks for the support.

xjamesx70: I've found myself writing longer chapters recently, maybe it's all the battles that make them longer. Things escalated quickly here as well, but that's how war is.

WarGlory: Glad I could deliver.

Papon777: Also interesting ideas. God Save the Queen.


	20. Chapter 20

Jack's men were buried with full military honors. There was no possible way to transport them back to Britain, so they were placed in well marked graves on a hill near the Saderan camp. None of Jack's men were priests, but they held a small funeral for their fallen men regardless. It wasn't great, but it was better than the mass graves they'd put the Warrior Bunny corpses into.

Every lancer returned to their tent that night in a somber mood. Jack was no exception.

His body ached, his mind was aching as well, and sleep was calling to him. It seemed to him that going to bed would be the solution to all three of those problems. Sleep was a very good idea indeed.

Jack stepped into his tent, and without thought unbuckled his sabre and pistol from his side. His pith helmet was flung onto his bed and he began-

"Ah!"

Jack looked up at the source of the noise. Delilah was lying on his bed, tied up with thick rope. His pith helmet had hit her right in the forehead. _Right… I said I'd use her tonight._

The Warrior Bunny glared at him with fury. If looks could kill, Jack would have been eviscerated five times over. He was fortunate that she was still tightly bound; if she'd been free, Delilah probably would be trying to strangle him.

"Degenerate!" she hissed. "How does it feel licking the boots of the Empire, mercenary?!"

Jack raised an eyebrow. "I'm not a mercenary."

Delilah maintained her glare. "You fight for the Saderans! If you do not fight for coin, you must be a slave!"

"Keep your voice down," he requested. "Every one of my men can hear you right now."

"Slave!" Delilah hissed in a quieter voice.

"I'm not that either."

"Why do you fight then?! Why serve the Empire?!"

"Because I was ordered to. I didn't get much choice in that," Jack responded with a shrug.

"You're from a vassal state then," Delilah concluded.

He shook his head. "Wrong again."

"I give up," she sighed.

"I'm from the other side of the gate," he explained. "My nation isn't a Saderan vassal, and it most certainly didn't get conquered by the Empire. We are here to establish our strength in Falmart."

"The rumors are true…" she murmured. Delilah went quiet.

"As for why we are fighting with the Saderans…" Jack tried to come up with a reasonable answer. "Honestly, I'm not sure. Something to do with politics."

"I see…"

Jack grabbed his pocket knife. "I'm not interested in raping you, despite what I might have told Prince Zorzal. If I cut your bonds, can I be certain you won't attack me?"

Delilah nodded, and Jack cut the ropes restraining her.

"What is across the gate?" she asked with sudden curiosity.

Jack scratched his head and tried to think of an answer. "We call our world Earth. I come from the nation of Britain, but there are hundreds of nations across different continents."

"Is Britain a powerful empire?" she questioned. "Your magic is stronger than anything I've seen. With such powerful magic, you must be the greatest nation on Earth."

Jack nodded. "The British Empire is powerful."

"You must have a great emperor to rule it."

"Empress," he corrected. "Queen Victoria of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, Empress of India." Jack didn't mention it, but in truth Queen Victoria didn't have very much direct power over Britain's government. Parliament was where power really resided.

"We have a queen too," Delilah suddenly said. "Queen Tyuule."

Jack yawned; it was growing late. "Is she a good leader?"

Delilah bit her lip. "I used to think so."

"Something changed?" Jack asked.

"She lied to me. She lied to my warriors. Queen Tyuule assured us that we would be able to ambush the Saderan army and gain victory, but that didn't happen. Your men attacked us first…"

Jack disagreed. "She couldn't have possibly known that-"

"She should have!" Delilah shouted loud enough for all of Jack's men to hear. She realized what she'd done and went silent.

"We got lucky," Jack responded. "My men stumbled upon your forces and won a battle that we shouldn't have won. That happens in war. It's not anyone's fault."

"Someone's always at fault," she muttered. "If it wasn't Queen Tyuule, then it was me."

Jack tried to think of something to say that would help. He didn't come up with anything.

Delilah stared into Jack's eyes. "You're a good leader. You must be some powerful lord in Britain."

He shook his head. "My family's minor nobility, but we're not very wealthy or powerful. I earned my position." Jack was fortunate to have the opportunity to become an officer. The Cardwell Reforms had eliminated purchasing officer commissions in the British Army and made promotion based on merit; if Jack had been born a decade earlier, he probably never would have had the opportunity to be captain.

Delilah took in the information quietly before speaking again. "What's going to happen to me?"

"Hmm?" Jack was taken aback by the question.

"I am your prisoner, but you aren't interested in sleeping with me. Am I a slave? Will Prince Zorzal be using me?"

Jack shook his head. "You're my prisoner, not Zorzal's. Slavery is outlawed in Britain, so you're not a slave. For now, you're just a prisoner of war."

"And what's to stop me from trying to escape?" she boldly asked.

Jack was suddenly wary. His pistol was in easy reach, so if needed he could grab it quickly. He took a breath and replied, "My friendly company, and perhaps the thousands of armed soldiers in this camp."

"Mhmm…"

He started to wonder if cutting her restraints had been a good idea. "I'd prefer it if I don't have to keep you tied up," Jack warned.

"I would also prefer-" Delilah abruptly went quiet. Her gaze shifted to behind Jack.

He turned around and found himself looking into the very scary face of Bozes Co Palesti. She wasn't wearing any armor, but she was still terrifying and didn't look happy.

"What is she doing here?" Her voice was laced with venom.

_Fuck. _This looked bad. Jack stumbled on his words, "S-She's my-"

Bozes slapped him.

"She's-"

Bozes slapped him a second time.

"Delilah's my prisoner!" he blurted before she could hit him a third time. "I'm protecting her from Prince Zorzal."

She narrowed her eyes. "In exchange for?"

"Nothing," Jack hastily reassured.

Her gaze drifted to Delilah. Thankfully, the Warrior Bunny nodded and confirmed his story. Bozes' face became less hostile and more embarrassed as she realized her mistake. Jack expected her to say something, but instead she just stormed out of his tent. He glanced at Delilah briefly before rushing after Bozes.

Delilah was left alone in Jack's tent.

* * *

Lord Burke was tired of waiting.

He'd accepted that the campaign against the Warrior Bunnies would take time, but Lord Burke was losing patience. The Imperial Senate was making moves against his power, and he couldn't allow that to keep happening. Emperor Molt's influence, and by extension Lord Burke's, was only so great, and the senate was finding new ways of subverting it everyday.

Just yesterday, Senator Podawan had managed to pass a resolution that decreed British citizens would not be allowed to reside in the capital with the sole exception of Lord Burke and his personal guard. It narrowly avoided violating the treaty that Emperor Molt had signed, but it was a clear sign of hostility against Burke.

He couldn't solely rely on Molt anymore. Burke needed to make his own influence in the Senate.

As a foreign ambassador, Lord Burke has very little direct political influence in the Saderan Senate. However, he did have the power to dictate how British trade flowed into Sadera, and he was in the position to make a few senators very rich. Few things were as valuable as British trade to Sadera.

Senator Palesti already agreed that he would support Burke's ambitions. In exchange, it had been agreed that British clocks and furniture would be exclusively sold to his merchants. This would allow for Palesti to then resell the British goods at a higher price than he'd bought them with no fear of competition from others.

Another Saderan, Senator Cicero, had made a similar deal with Burke. British textiles were to be traded to his men, and in exchange the senator's considerable influence would help Burke sway the Imperial Senate to his side.

Still, there were only so many senators willing to accept his bribery. There were some senators who were too firmly entrenched in their belief in the Empire's superiority to give into Burke. Those men would have to be eliminated.

That was why he was currently meeting with his former captor. The crime lord Bessara.

"Old friend!" the man cried as he sat down in the British embassy.

"I wouldn't call us friends," Lord Burke replied. "More like… well favored acquaintances."

"Regardless, I have something you need and you have something I want." He smiled. "It's a mutually beneficial relationship!"

Lord Burke smiled to appease the man.

"So then, my friend-" Bessara caught himself. "Favored acquaintance. What can I do for you?"

"I need you to kill an Imperial Senator."

Bessara grinned. "Bold; I like it. Which one am I killing?"

"Senator Podawan. He's been the lead senator against my ambitions."

"Does it need to be an accident, or can I do it more openly?" Something told Burke that Bessara had done this sort of thing before. He wondered how many senators had met their end at the hands of this crime lord.

"I'd prefer an accident. It leaves less questions." If Lord Burke was implicated in this assassination, he'd be in a very dangerous position with the Imperial Senate.

"Accidents are harder to stage; it'll cost more," Bessara stated simply.

Lord Burke tilted his head. "Before we go further, what exactly am I going to be paying in?"

The crime lord breathed in. "Let's call it… political favors. I'll need you to keep the Imperial Army off my back and occasionally pass a law that would be favorable to my... business."

"I see. And if I ask for a senator to die in the future?"

"Then I'll expect the favor to be repaid at some point, but let's not worry ourselves about the future. We're here now."

"Senator Podawan needs an accident," Burke restated.

Bessara smiled. "Of course, of course, I hear horse riding can be dangerous. It would be a shame if a certain senator fell off his horse."

"Excellent. I believe that's all I need for the time being."

Bessara stretched out his hand. "To a future of cooperation."

Burke took his hand and shook it. "To a future of cooperation."

* * *

The Saderan scouts hadn't returned.

Ever since Jack had returned to camp successful from his scouting mission, Prince Zorzal had conceded to the idea and began allowing for his men to take part in such missions. Jack had hoped this would be the start of something good, but then they received word that the scouts hadn't come back from their mission.

Prince Zorzal didn't care.

It was like the man hadn't learned anything from the past week. They'd been ambushed already, and Jack's men had prevented that from happening a second time. It was clear to every officer except Zorzal that scouting was a necessity. The prince was an idiot.

Jack would have sent his men on a mission himself, but Zorzal had also decided that they should begin marching again. They didn't have time to conduct another mission.

Instead of an actual mission, Jack decided it would be best for his lancers to ride out ahead of the main marching column. That way they could hopefully find any ambush before it was sprung. It would be more dangerous than traditional reconnaissance, but it was better than nothing.

Delilah was riding on Jack's horse. It was a risk taking her with him, but Jack didn't trust Zorzal enough to leave her with the main column of men.

"I'm bored," she whined.

"Be quiet," Jack muttered. He needed to keep a lookout for potential ambushes.

The Warrior Bunny yawned. "But I'm bored…"

"I said be quiet!"

Delilah rolled her eyes and started poking his head. Jack turned to glare at her and she stopped.

He groaned. "Can't you just-"

Something in the treeline moved.

"Can't I just what?" Delilah asked.

"Shut up!" Jack whispered harshly.

Something else in the trees moved.

"Don't talk to a woman like that," she muttered.

Jack turned to face her. "I'll talk to you-"

"Ambush!"

_Fuck._ Jack looked back to his front. About two dozen Warrior Bunnies were rushing at Jack's men. He didn't have time to process anything else.

"Fall back to the main column!" he ordered. They'd done their job; the ambush was found. It wasn't their task to actually fight the ambushers.

Two of Jack's men were struck by arrows as they tried to turn their horses. The rest of them managed to start riding back the way they'd come. Jack turned to follow them; he wasn't going to stay around and die.

Then Delilah grabbed him.

She pulled him off of Maria, allowing the horse to keep riding on without them. Jack hit the ground and groaned; he was tired of being dragged off his horse. He grabbed his pistol from its holster then stood himself up.

Delilah faced him. She'd somehow managed to grab his sabre from the sheath on Jack's belt. Behind her, the other Warrior Bunnies were approaching.

Jack raised his pistol to Delilah's forehead.

"You wouldn't dare," she stated.

The woman clearly didn't know him well enough. "Yes I bloody would!"

Delilah shook her head. "Do it then." She began to approach him.

Jack accepted her challenge. He aimed straight for her head; a single shot that would end her life in an instant. He'd liked Delilah, but Jack didn't plan on dying or being captured because of her. He pulled the trigger.

The gun let out a soft _click_ and nothing else happened. He pulled the trigger again; nothing happened. Jack pulled the trigger four more times just to be certain. Nothing happened.

"What did you do?" he demanded.

Delilah shrugged. "You left me alone in your tent with your weapon, so I decided to improve my chances of escape."

Jack pulled one of the bullets from his revolver. The back end of it had been forcefully cut off, removing the primer and rendering the bullet completely useless.

Delilah brought up Jack's sabre to his throat. "I believe you're my prisoner now."

* * *

Shorter than the last two chapters and not quite the quality I'd like it, but I didn't want to delay this chapter any further. I'm going to be busy in the coming weeks since my professors are finally getting a hang of online schooling and are giving out more work now, so I won't be able to put out chapters like I have been. Honestly I don't know if I'll be able to write at all, but I'll try regardless.

hellisonfire345: Thanks for the support.

Perseus12: I think we all pretty much hate Zorzal.

FalloutAndLove: Well I'm glad you commented, reviews tell me if I'm headed in the right direction or not and they help motivate me to write. Thank you.

xjamesx70: Thanks for the review. Jack is definitely kinder than Zorzal.

Dandaman5: Thanks, I'm not sure my fight scenes are the best but I'm glad you like them regardless.

Papon777: Varro will definitely have more of a role in future chapters.

Gunwolf.45: Saderan Gurkhas are an interesting idea.

Guest: Rice Christians were a very real and well documented thing so I fail to see how this is "Christian bashing" or how this relates to your apparent hatred of the west.

"Every Chinese who had been baptized, might receive, weekly, a small present of rice; as might be expected, conversions now became so very frequent, on account of the inducement offered, that the poor Macaists were obliged to give up their ruinous plan, and no sooner did the supplies begin to fail, than they began to discover the extreme frailty of the converted; almost all the Chinese returned to their old superstitions, and when the renegades were remonstrated with, and asked how it was that they had abandoned their Christian practices, they quietly replied—'You did not continue to supply us with rice!'" -_Six Months Among the Malays, and a Year in China_, 1855.

Kirov of the USSR: Indeed, the Queen protects.

The Darkness Writhes: I'm glad you enjoy it. When I first watched Gate I had hoped there would be a story about an imperialist nation invading rather than the modern Japanese, but I didn't find any so I had to write my own.

Proud-Firebrand: Here you go.


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